


Sleepless

by writergirl8



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Missing Moments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-09
Updated: 2014-06-22
Packaged: 2017-12-18 04:53:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 91,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/875829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writergirl8/pseuds/writergirl8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because sometimes, to fall asleep, all you need is your best friend. Your boyfriend. Your fiancee. Your wife. Your soul mate. A collection of 30 moments in a lifetime during which Ron and Hermione just couldn't fall asleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Chapter One** **  
** _First Year: 1991_

Before Hermione Granger had come to Hogwarts, she had decided that she was a caterpillar. Caterpillars needed to blossom and grow so that they could become something entirely new. Something better. And when her Hogwarts letter had come along, Hermione had instantly recognized this situation for what it was. It was rejuvenation. It was time to reinvent herself, become someone that she  _wanted_ to be versus who she actually was. When she got to Hogwarts she would no longer be the class know-it-all with busy hair and buckteeth. She'd  _do something_ about her hair. She'd use magic to cover up the buckteeth. She wouldn't raise her hand, she wouldn't annoy people, she wouldn't show off how smart she knew she was.

But then she got her textbooks and everything changed. She realized that fixing her buckteeth would take much more advanced magic than a mere first year could even begin to achieve. She became practically addicted to the knowledge in the books, so fascinating and wonderful and  _new_. She recognized the fact that she, Hermione Granger, was who she was, and there wasn't really anything she could do to change that. Then she wondered if maybe the kids in the wizarding world were more like  _her_. Maybe she wouldn't have to change to be interesting. Maybe being smart was enough to make everyone like her.

So Hermione devoured the textbooks, ate them up with a raw determination to prove herself. She read them over and over again, allowing the words to pour from the page and into her soul. All summer, all she did was read. Her parents were proud, but at the same time a little bit concerned. Their daughter had already merged herself into this world that was so far past their own. Muggle parents sending their children to Hogwarts rarely ever understood how this would effect their lives until it was too late. Once the child entered the wizarding world, they seldom looked back, and they found new people to befriend and take care of them, people who were as magical as them. And the way Hermione ignored her parents all summer, the way she got lost in her textbooks was the first example of what was to come. The way her parents would loose her to two boys named Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley.

There was nothing they could do about it.

Of course, at first it wasn't that simple. At first Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley only saw Hermione as the bushy haired know-it-all that she so rarely saw in herself, lest it was pointed out to her. Looking back on it, Hermione always blamed the solidarity of those first few months of Hogwarts on Ron. She always said that the way he instantly judged her that first day on the train was what lost her Harry, when all he'd really had to go on was the fact that she'd showed him up in the spell department, and that way she'd pointed out he had dirt on his nose.

It was late, probably midnight, when Ron came downstairs. Hermione Granger was sitting all by her lonesome in the common room, eyes quickly slipping and sliding through the pages of  _Hogwarts, A History_. And, upon looking around in a state of panic, Ron came to recognize that this obnoxious girl was the only one in the common room who wasn't a fifth or seventh year. Well, he didn't know any fifth years besides Percy, who wasn't even there. And he certainly didn't know any seventh years. So, quietly, as if hoping she wouldn't notice, Ron crept over to where Hermione was and sat a good distance away from her. She was so enthralled in her book that she didn't even notice her company. Ron wasn't sure whether or not he should be offended by this, but found that he was grateful. He couldn't bear to hear her talking about school, and certainly this girl never talked about anything else.

He used this time to study her. Hermione Granger had bushy brown hair that shined prettily in the light of the fire. An excited light graced her mahogany eyes as they swept over the pages of her book. Ron found this trait to be the most appealing. She got so excited about the things she loved. In a way, it was unnerving. And, while eleven- year-old Ron would never admit it to himself, he later discovered that, in a way, Hermione's passion was beautiful. Here, in this relaxed state of mind, with her knees tucked into an cute little position underneath her and her one of her tiny fingers resting on her bottom lip, Ron found this girl to be almost endearing. Which was silly. He'd only known her for a month. He didn't even _like_ her. Disbelief coloring his thoughts, Ron let out a little snort.

That snort was all it took for Hermione to look curiously up from her reading. When she saw a little ginger haired boy on the armchair to the left of hers, Hermione's expression became furious. It caused Ron to wonder exactly what he had done to her when she was so obviously the annoying one. What he didn't know was that, to Hermione, Ron represented the person she didn't want to be. He was the one who had instantly seen her outside face, who she really was, called her out on what she wore so obviously but what most people were too shy to comment on. Hermione hated him for it. It would have been so different if Ron Weasley had allowed himself to get to know her, to be nice to her. But he hadn't, and she blamed him for all of the loneliness she had been experiencing the past month.

"What are  _you_ doing here?" Hermione asked snootily, unable to stop herself.

She inwardly winced as soon as the words poured from her mouth. She had just done exactly what this horrible little boy had expected her to do. She was being a spoiled, only child snob. She'd even put on that horrible little voice for the occasion. To her surprise, however, Ron Weasley didn't bite back. It seemed to Hermione that he was just too tired. All he did was shrug his shoulders and be honest.

"I couldn't sleep."

For some strange reason, Hermione could feel herself begin to feel sorry for him. She hated it when she couldn't sleep, especially when there was school the next day. Alarmed at the pity beginning to roll off of her, she continued to bite the boy's head off.

"I expect you had too much sugar before bed."

And once again, he surprised her.

"Probably."

Instantly, Hermione dropped her obnoxious manner, exhaustion and kindness overpowering pride and hurt just once.

"Have you tried warm milk?" she inquired, and Ron shook his head.

"How do you expect me to get that?"

"Good point. Well, what do you usually do when you can't sleep?"

Ron bit his lip.

"I don't know. Usually I fall asleep right away."

 _Now_ he was starting to annoy her. She was trying to help him, and it seemed to her that he was being unusually difficult. There was an awkward pause while she thought about what he could do to get himself to fall asleep.

"Have you ever tried reading?" she asked eventually.

Ron looked affronted.

"I can read!"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I mean before bed."

"Oh," Ron said, frowning. "No, not really. I mean, mum used to read us all the fairy tales before bed, but I haven't heard any of Beedle's stuff in a while. Not since Ginny."

She had no idea who Ginny was, but at the mention of this Beedle person, Hermione's eyes widened a little bit.

"Oh, are those wizarding fairy tales?" she asked, interested. Ron's drooping eyes opened a bit wider, surprised by her enthusiasm. There it was again. That strange passion about books that he never would understand, no matter how hard he tried.

"Yeah," he said unenthusiastically.

"How fascinating!" Hermione replied earnestly. "Do you know any of them by heart?"

The honest truth was that, yes, Ron did, but he wasn't in the mood to recite fairy tales. Besides, that wasn't masculine, and he wasn't going to let Hermione see the side of him that could recite fairy tales and spent all his time with his baby sister.

"No," Ron said in an emotionless voice.

There was a long stretch of silence during which Ron stared grumpily at the fire and Hermione struggled to find something to say. It wasn't as if she actually  _liked_ this boy. That said, she wondered why she felt such a pressure to be nice to him, to help him. She didn't understand how they'd gotten all the way through this conversation without some form of yelling. She couldn't  _fathom_ how she'd been in a conversation with this boy for ten minutes and he hadn't made her feel that horrible pang of hurt she usually felt in her stomach when she was around him. Ron Weasley was a puzzle that she desperately wanted to figure out, but at the same time knew she had no right to care about. He was just a boy, just a stupid boy, and why was she letting him into her life like this when he so obviously didn't care about her?

She was so sick and tired of people not liking her. When she'd come to this school, all she'd wanted was a new existence, a new personality. Some friends who could love her in spite of her flaws. Maybe girls she could laugh with, girls who could tell her that she really  _was_ pretty. The only girls she'd met were all so  _giggly_ , and Hermione Granger didn't giggle. It wasn't her thing. Most of the boys at the school were obsessed with Quidditch. Worst of all, nobody had been able to look past her exterior and really see her for who she was. Hermione was starting to doubt whether she was the good person she actually thought she was.

"Why do you hate me so much, anyways?" Hermione asked in a tired voice. Ron's eyes that had just been drooping opened wider. He looked rather alarmed to be in this conversation. Hermione couldn't really blame him. She wondered if she was going to cry.

"I don't hate you," Ron told her quickly.

"Yes, you do," Hermione snapped. "And I want to know why."

"Are you telling me that I hate you when I know I don't?"

"That would be correct."

"But... that doesn't even make any sense!"

There was a pause during which the both of them glared at each other, Ron's gaze slightly confused.

"Sorry," Hermione said quietly. "I don't know what came over me."

"Alright then," Ron said, settling back into his chair. "I really  _don't_ hate you, you know."

"Maybe. Hate's a strong word," Hermione admitted. "But you think I'm annoying?"

"Right."

"And that I'm a know-it-all?"

"Yeah."

"And that I'm a nightmare?"

He looked startled.

"I never went as far as to say nightmare."

Hermione bit her lip to keep herself from crying.

"At least I know what I need to work on, right?" she said brightly, and Ron frowned at her.

"I guess," he said. "But what are you trying to change for?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well," Ron started, "it seems to me that you  _are_ a bit over the top. But I don't think you hate who you are. I think you hate how everybody else sees you."

For a second, all she could do was wonder how an eleven-year-old boy could say something so astute. And when she couldn't come up with an answer, all she could do was clear her throat and say,

"Do you want me to read to you?"

"What?"

"So you can fall asleep. As evident by the fact that you've never read  _Hogwarts, A History_ , I assume you'll find it boring and nod off."

"Oh," Ron said, smiling a little bit now. He really did doubt that this would work, but he'd let her do it anyways. It wasn't like he had anything better to do so late at night. "Alright." He arranged himself into a more comfortable position in the armchair he was sitting in so that he could see her, then closed his eyes and said, "Go on, then."

Hermione glanced down at her book, then began reading. Ron didn't bother concentrating on the words. After hearing a sentence, he realized this book was just as boring as it sounded and, furthermore, the words were just too large for his comprehension this late at night. But there was something strange going on, anyways. Something was lulling him to sleep, something that was making him feel happy and relaxed and content. And after a second of contemplation, Ron realized that it was Hermione's voice. It was soft and peaceful, and it was like a beautiful lullaby swaying in and out of his thoughts. Soon, he felt himself fall, his eyes sliding shut, his mouth curved into the tiniest of smiles.

It was the first time Hermione Granger had ever helped him fall asleep, but if you asked him about it the next morning, he'd deny it.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because sometimes, to fall asleep, all you need is your best friend. Your boyfriend. Your fiancee. Your wife. Your soul mate. A collection of 30 moments in a lifetime during which Ron and Hermione just couldn't fall asleep.

**Chapter Two  
** _First Year: 1992_

"I'm exhausted," Harry groaned, rubbing his eyes as he yawned. Hermione and Ron glanced at each other, then nodded and put down their books.

"I don't think I can read another word," Ron agreed, looking over at Hermione to hear her say something when he was finished talking. Hermione looked torn.

"Er- well, I'm tired too, but I can always read more," she admitted.

Ron and Harry exchanged endearing glances and then turned to stare at her with a looks of exasperation.

"You read too much, Hermione."

"So I've heard."

"You think to much, Hermione."

"Ditto."

"You talk too much, Hermione."

She paused before answering Ron, smiling slightly at the friendly banter.

"That's not new either, but less common, definitely."

He grinned at her.

"Well, I'm going to bed," Harry said, and the two of them to turned away from each other and back towards him. "Goodnight, you two."

"Oh, goodnight Harry," Hermione said, smiling at him. "Sleep well."

She knew he'd been having nightmares about the Mirror of Erised ever since the end of Christmas break, and was rather concerned for him. She understood that loosing people could be hard, but she'd never actually lost a parent before, and therefore had no means to commiserate with him aside from guesswork. And she was pretty sure Harry didn't want guesswork. As a matter of fact, he didn't think he'd much be into talking about his parents' death either.

"Coming, Ron?" Harry asked as he stepped forward to the staircase. Ron shrugged.

"I'm not very tired. I'll be up later, mate. You can go."

"Alright," Harry agreed, and he trudged towards the staircase.

Hermione sighed in a weary sort of way and reached over her chair to pick up an alarmingly large book.

"What are you doing?" Ron asked, frowning.

"Reading," Hermione told him. "I know you're not a genius, Ron, but that's really pushing the limit."

"I thought we all agreed to stop for the night."

Hermione shook her head.

"This is pleasure reading."

"Oh for the love of Merlin," Ron said, shaking his head. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Can you think of anything better to do?"

From the look on Ron's face after she said that, Hermione knew that she had walked straight into his trap.

"Chess."

"No," Hermione said immediately, and she turned back to her book.

"C'mon. Just one game."

"No."

"One teensy, weensy little game?"

"One game turns into two, two to three, three to four, so on and so forth. And it's already late."

…

"Not even  _one_  game?"

"Ron!" Hermione snapped, throwing her book aside and glaring at him. "No chess tonight, alright?"

"But Harry has already gone to bed, and I can't sleep without a game of chess."

"Sure you can. You did it just last night."

"Did not."

"Yes, you did."

Ron paused.

"Oh yeah, I did," he admitted, and then his expression grew triumphant. "But I can't go two nights in a row without a game of chess. It's been so long since I played."

"More like it's been so long since you beat one of us and got to brag about it," Hermione muttered under her breath.

"What was that?" Ron asked, and Hermione looked up.

"Oh, nothing."

Ron was already grinning.

"I see what it is! You're jealous."

"Jealous?"

"Because I always beat you at chess."

"That's just not true."

"Really? Name  _one_ time you beat me."

Hermione frowned, trying to think.

"Well, never, but that's not the point."

"Oh, it isn't?"

"No, it isn't."

"You're jealous! Hah!"

"I am not, Ron. Stop being ridiculous."

"How am I being ridiculous?"

"Well, you're making an assumption that I'm jealous of your chess playing abilities when in reality, I'm just not in the mood to play. That's ridiculous in my opinion."

He snorted.

"What else have you got to do? And don't say homework, because I know you're done. And don't say reading, because the fact that we're having this argument means that you're not really that attached to that book anyways."

"No, the fact that we're having this argument means that you're persistent and obnoxious, actually," Hermione told him, but Ron could see a light smile playing at her lips.

"Oh, come  _on_  Hermione. Don't think about what you could be doing, then, think about what I'll do if I can't play chess."

"Go to bed, perhaps. Ever think of that?"

"I will go to bed! Just as soon as I've played a chess game."

"Have you finished your transfiguration essay?" Hermione asked, swinging the conversation her way.

"Er- what?" Ron asked, surprised by this abrupt change of topic.

"Your transfiguration essay. The one that's due on Wednesday."

"It's Monday. I'll do it tomorrow."

Hermione puffed up angrily.

"You most certainly will not! Do you want to get a T on it?"

"Do you think I'd care that much if I did?"

Hermione raised her eyebrows. She knew for a fact that Ron  _did_ care about his grades. That was why he got so panicked whenever an essay was due and he didn't understand the subject. That was why he needed her so badly to stay up late with him every time he procrastinated and needed someone with him to get it done. Before they'd become friends, Hermione hadn't seen this. She'd watched Harry and Ron lounging around when something was due and just assumed that they didn't care about their grades. But upon looking at both of them more closely, she'd realized that they were both very smart and cared about how they did in school. The real issue was that they were both terrible procrastinators, always leaving things to the last minute. Every time Ron wanted a game of chess, Harry readily agreed, and every time Harry wanted to talk about Quidditch, all he had to do is go to Ron. They were partners in crime, really. Each was a bad influence on the other, and all Hermione could do was sit there and plead with them to work on their homework while they rolled their eyes about how annoying she was. Sometimes it was a tiresome job. Actually,  _most_  of the time it was a tiresome job.

"Ron, let me tell you how tomorrow's going to go," Hermione said firmly. "We're going to wake up and go to breakfast. We'll have our classes. During break, you and Harry will play a game of chess, claiming that you have all evening to do your essays. Like the stupid girl I am, I'll sit there and allow it because I'll know there's nothing I'm going to be able to do about it. When break is over, we'll go to our next few classes. After those, we'll eat dinner. You'll probably want to stop and say hello to Hagrid, because the weather's supposed to be nice. By the time we get back, it'll  _just_ have gotten dark out, and when I remind you to do your essay you'll think 'wow, we have tons of time left!' and begin a game of exploding snap. Upon finishing said game of exploding snap, I once again will tell you to do your essay. You'll protest, and three seconds later something in the common room will remind you of Quidditch. You'll talk about Quidditch until you get bored of it and suggest a game of chess. I'll warn you that you're going to fail the essay. You'll deny it and play. Suddenly, it'll be ten o'clock at night and you will have written absolutely  _nothing_. You will beg and plead with me to write your essay, and I will protest, saying that it is not right to indulge your procrastination. You'll plead with me until I am so annoyed I'm forced to help you write your essay. The next morning we'll all be exhausted and I'll be slightly ticked off at you. Then... it'll start all over again."

Ron paused, taking this all in. Then he said,

"Did you just call yourself stupid?"

Hermione sighed.

"Ron, that doesn't change everything else I said. You're both horrible procrastinators, and it's getting tiresome."

Even as she said it, she knew in her heart it wouldn't change anything.

"Please, you know you love it," Ron smirked. "Now play chess with me."

"RON!"

"It's because you're scared, isn't it?"

"I'm not scared!" Hermione protested.

"Okay," Ron said, now smirking devilishly at her. "I'm going to make you a deal."

"A deal?" Hermione asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"A deal," Ron reiterated. "If you play a game of chess with me, I'll give you some pointers. And if you let me give you pointers, I'll let  _you_ help me with my essay."

Hermione frowned.

"Ron, you idiot,  _both_ of those benefit you."

"Aha, but they also both benefit  _you_."

"Pray tell... how?"

"You want to get better at chess. I can help you there."

Hermione didn't doubt it, but she did hate to admit it. The problem with Ron was that he was excellent at the game, but he was less than modest and loved gloating. On the other hand, she always secretly felt proud of him when he won. Even when he was beating her, it showed how brilliant he was. And for some reason, Hermione loved that. It was strange, but when Harry and Ron played chess, she was always rooting for Ron. She knew she probably shouldn't be picking favorites out of the two of them, but there was something...

No, god, she couldn't think like that. Hermione shook her head to rid it of strange thoughts that she couldn't understand and didn't want to bother with.

"And the essay?" she responded. "How exactly is that supposed to benefit me?"

"Well," Ron began jauntily, "tomorrow, after dinner and before nighttime, I'll already have the essay done, so I can just give it to Harry to copy and you'll be saved from nagging us like you usually do. Plus, you'll be able to go to bed  _early_  for once."

Hermione bit her lip. That did actually sound rather good. She hadn't really gone to bed at a decent hour ever since the night Ron and Harry had saved her from the troll.

"Okay, you've got a deal."

Two hours later, Ron had finished helping Hermione with chess. While she hated to admit it, she actually did feel a little bit better at the game. Biting back the urge to smile, she gently reminded Ron that it was time to work on his essay. So he did. Without the slightest bit of mumbling, grumbling or complaining, Ron pulled out his essay and sat down at a chair at the table in the back of the common room. Hermione sat down next to him, reading it over her shoulder. When she looked over at Ron, she could see that he was slightly pink. She wondered why. To ease the tension, she tried to stop herself from grabbing his arm whenever he made a mistake on writing something. She'd speak very slowly in his ear when she needed to say something. It was relaxed, yet charged. And she didn't understand why. She was legitimately befuddled by how different her relationship with Ron was than her relationship with Harry. She didn't bicker with Harry. And things weren't as tentative with Harry. Hermione had picked these things up almost immediately after the start of her friendship with the two boys.

Quietly, she guided Ron through his essay, half wishing he would have just gone to bed when she'd asked him too. The thing about Ron was that he was smart, perhaps even smarter than Harry. He probably wasn't as good at Defense Against Dark Arts, but when he put his mind to something he grasped it with relative ease, surprising both himself and Hermione. Ron often let his temper overpower his common sense, but he did have a reasonably good amount of it. He was more street smart than Harry, but less people smart than Harry. Hermione liked thinking about the way Harry and Ron differed. She had already inwardly started calling them 'her boys', although she'd never admit it out loud. She felt so motherly towards Harry. Not towards Ron, of course, with Ron it was very different. Ron was so infuriating, so frustrating, and so wonderful. He was lazy, but if he really put his mind to school, she thought his grades could be nearly as good as hers. And that was a huge compliment, as far as Hermione was concerned, because she personally thought that half the kids in her grade were complete dunderheads.

Finally, Ron completed his essay. Both he and Hermione slumped back against the couch, exhausted and trying to keep their eyes open so that they wouldn't fall asleep there in the Gryffindor common room, not even bothering to worry about posture or how they looked or how bad the cricks in their neck would be if they kept this up.

"That was really good, Ron," Hermione said finally, glancing over at him and beaming.

"Thanks," Ron muttered.

"No, really, Ron. You're smart."

He groaned loudly.

"Why do you sound so surprised, Hermione?" he asked, exasperated.

"Sorry," Hermione said. She paused, wanting to tell him that she was proud of him, but not being able to think of it without her stomach squirming uncomfortably. "Why don't you try harder, anyways?"

His eyes flickered away from hers before coming to rest on her face again.

"It's a long story."

"I've got time."

"It's late."

"Not too late for story time, really."

He relented, smile dropping a little bit.

"Everything I do, one of my brothers will already have done. It doesn't matter if I do well in school, because Bill got twelve O. , and he was Head Boy and Percy's a prefect and Charlie was Quidditch captain. There isn't anything I can do that will make me stand out, so why bother?"

Hermione was silent, just staring into his blue eyes.

"Shall we agree to disagree?" she asked finally. Ron's eyebrows shot up.

"Do you think there's anything left for me to do, Hermione?"

"What about chess?"

"It's just a hobby."

"What about being an excellent friend?"

"That's fruity and really wouldn't be counted, although thank you."

She bit her lip gazing at the couch, and then her eyes sparked and flashed back up to him. She got up onto her knees, facing him with enthusiasm on her face.

"Ron," she said, "we'll find something for you to do that makes you fifteen times better than all your brothers. We'll find it, and I'll help you achieve it, and you'll prove to them all just how ama—" she stopped herself—"just how great you are."

"Really?" he asked doubtfully.

"Really," Hermione said firmly. And he grinned.

"Thanks, Hermione," he breathed.

She smiled, looking content.

"Go to bed."

"Right-o."


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because sometimes, to fall asleep, all you need is your best friend. Your boyfriend. Your fiancee. Your wife. Your soul mate. A collection of 30 moments in a lifetime during which Ron and Hermione just couldn't fall asleep.

**Chapter Three  
** _Second Year: 1992_

She couldn't sleep.

No matter how much she tossed and turned, Hermione couldn't stop her mind from wandering, her heart from beating, her head from spinning with a euphoria she had never felt before. And she couldn't quite figure out why, because nothing had really changed since a few weeks ago. A few weeks ago, when she hadn't been experiencing butterflies in her stomach whenever she thought of her best friend.

Merlin's pants, what was wrong with her? Who got butterflies in their stomach while thinking of their friend? It was so strange, something she just couldn't wrap her head around. She knew what it meant, but the idea of that actually happening was absolutely horrid. How could she fancy Ron? He was Ron, just Ron, just the boy who a mere year ago had absolutely hated her. He'd called her a nightmare, he hadn't wanted anything to do with her. And now he and Harry were the best friends she'd ever had, two impish boys who led her into traps and danger and fun. Two boys who needed her to be there for them, who depended on her to help them when the going got rough. Two boys that were funny, and smart, and brave, and the worlds' biggest procrastinators. One of which was famous and sometimes misunderstood, the other insecure but an excellent chess player.

Chess. That was when this had all started, wasn't it? When Hermione had seen Ron get knocked out by the Queen the year before, her heart had lodged itself in her throat. While she was solving the logic poem, her mind kept leaping back to the other room where Ron lay unconscious. She hadn't been able to believe how terribly brave he'd been, and she couldn't shake the frantic, frightened beating of her heart as she watched him fall to the checkered floor. From then on, nothing had really been the same. Whenever she'd seen Ron, she'd felt the tiny fluttering in her stomach, and her heart would give a slight jolt. After she went home for summer vacation the butterflies went away, but she'd occasionally have dreams about what had happened after she'd gotten back to him. She remembered digging her nails into her palm to keep herself from brushing his hair away from his eyes. At the time, she'd thought it was because she hated untidy things. But what if she just wanted to touch his hair? Because, yes, the butterflies had gone away, but then they'd come back. And now she knew for sure what they were.

It was Ron's fault, Hermione decided. It was all Ron's fault that she was in this predicament. If he hadn't defended her against Malfoy when he called her a mudblood, this never would have happened. Ever. She probably could have gone through all her years without even letting the words 'I might fancy Ron' cross her mind. But as soon as that word had crossed Malfoy's lips and Ron had defended her, Hermione had looked at him in the same way she'd seen him at the end of last year with the chess board: A Knight in Shining Armour. Oh, he might not be Prince Charming, but certainly he was a Knight. After he'd started throwing up slugs, Hermione had barely noticed how unattractive it was because she was in her own little world for once, replaying the fury on Ron's face over and over again. The fury that was only there for her, because he  _cared_ about her. It was so nice to see him caring about her that way. Yes, she could defend herself quite easily, but it was the thought that counted. It was the fact that his first instinct had been to defend her honor.

It wasn't like Hermione was expecting Ron to be this amazing person who had changed overnight, suddenly becoming a downright romantic. As a matter of fact, it hadn't surprised her very much when he had gone back to acting normal a few seconds later. But he'd changed in her eyes. Now all the tiny things he did seemed so much bigger. Now she could see him growing up to be thoughtful and kind and even occasionally romantic, something she'd had difficulty with before. Now she could see him growing up to being just as good as all of his brothers, even better. Ron was something none of them were, she knew it. He was going to do something none of them had done and she would help him. She would most definitely help him. And then, once she had helped him, he would realize how terribly in love with her he was, and suddenly propose marriage to her...

Hermione stopped herself at once. She'd just gone from a completely sane person to a dreamer in about three minutes. Shaking her head, Hermione decided to restructure her thought process. That wouldn't happen, for sure. She was just being a strange thirteen-year-old dreaming about a future she knew wouldn't happen.  _Of course_  she wouldn't marry Ron. For now, she should probably concentrate on figuring out if he fancied her. But then, how could he fancy her when she herself still wasn't sure how much she fancied him? Hermione wondered if the butterflies would fade over time, if she would be able to stop thinking about Ron every second that she wasn't studying. Groaning to herself, Hermione hit her head against the pillow. Immediately, that familiar Hospital Wing scent filled her nostrils. She sighed and flipped over again so that she was on her back. Then she closed her eyes and attempted to fall asleep.

"Hey," said a voice a few seconds later, and Hermione's eyes flew open to see Ron standing over her bed, looking very pale in the moonlight.

"Uh, hi," Hermione replied, her brows pointing down. "Is something wrong?"

Now Ron was the one frowning.

"Not really," he said, shrugging. "I was just- er- bored. Yeah, I was bored and wanted to come see you."

Panic began to roll over Hermione as she thought about what she must look like right now, her eyes still a bit cat-like. Thankfully, all the fur had gone from her face. Ron and Harry hadn't seen her since that first day when they had rushed her to the hospital wing as soon as the incident had happened. Her face hadn't really been discernible underneath all that fur, so Ron wouldn't have been able to pick out how ugly she looked and bank that in his memory. But a few days later, when the fur had been thinner, or a few days after that, when she'd still had a unibrow, if he had seen her she probably would have hated Madam Pomfrey for letting him in. Come to think of it, how had he gotten in?

"How did you get down here?" Hermione asked, and Ron sheepishly held up Harry's cloak. It struck her as odd immediately. Ron had taken the care to get Harry's cloak and sneak down to see her? Furthermore, he had sneaked down to see her without Harry, but using Harry's cloak? It was strange... Hermione felt the amount of butterflies in her stomach increase. And was it her, or were Ron's ears getting slightly red?

"Er- mind if I pull up a chair?" he inquired next, and Hermione mustered a little smile.

"I think the one you'll be having real trouble with there is Madam Pomfrey," she grinned, and Ron let out a little laugh.

"I suppose. We'd better keep our voices down then, haven't we?"

"Definitely," Hermione agreed. There was a long, awkward pause. For some reason, Ron's eyes never left Hermione's face. She raised her hand to her eyebrows, trying to act like she was itching when in reality she was making sure the unibrow was all gone. It was, and Hermione thanked merlin about twelve times before turning her attentions back to Ron. "Where's Harry?" she questioned, and then she suddenly hated herself. Here she was, having alone time with Ron, of which there was precious little in her life, and she was concentrating on Harry James Potter. The other best friend, the one that was always with Ron and preventing her for getting very much alone time with him.

"He didn't come."

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Well, obviously. What I mean to say is... why not?"

Merlin's pants, she was making it worse. Now he was going to think that she didn't want to be by herself with him, which was the exact opposite of what was going on.

"I didn't ask him," Ron replied, his face heating up. Hermione bit back a smile as she stared at him. Glee was coursing through her now, but she didn't want to show it, so she settled on playing up the whole type-A personality thing and reprimanding him.

"You mean you took the cloak without asking?"

Ron shook his head immediately.

"No, of course not! I just told him I was going for a walk. I really was going for a walk, you know. I just somehow ended up in here."

"Oh," Hermione said, and the two lapsed into an uncomfortable silence again. It was wonderful that he was with her, but she couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed that he hadn't come searching for her. Then again, the idea that he'd been aimlessly wandering and had ended up by her sick bed  _was_  pretty romantic.

Hermione took three seconds to remind herself that Ronald Weasley was  _not_ romantic, nor would he ever be. She fiddled with her thumbs instead, teeth scraping her lip as she bit it nervously.

"Why do you always do that?" Ron said suddenly, and Hermione looked up at him with wide eyes.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, trying to think of something she had done to him in recent days that he had strongly disliked and that she was now exhibiting.

"Biting your lip," Ron told her, and Hermione flushed.

"Oh. I'm not sure. It's just a nervous habit. Why, do I do it a lot?"

"Yeah," Ron nodded, rolling his eyes. "You do it when you're listening to the teachers in class, and when you're reading the newspaper, and when you're trying to figure out what to write next on an essay. And I'm pretty sure you do it when you're nervous, too."

Her heart skipped a beat as he heard him talk about her this way, so sweetly without even trying. It was like he had paid extra special attention to her,  _learned_  about her. But he obviously didn't know why, as he had gone back to frowning as though he was completely vexed about their homework or pondering the mysteries of life. Then again, she didn't really know why, either. Maybe Ron was just more perceptive than she had initially thought. Or maybe he was just extra perceptive when it came to her. Or maybe she was just thinking wishfully because she had recently discovered she fancied him. Hermione wondered how he had picked so much up about her. Furthermore, she wondered if he knew nearly as much about her as she did him. She released a tiny, nervous laugh.

"Interesting. Should I stop biting my lip, then?"

"No," he said hurriedly.

"So it's not completely horrible?"

"Not  _completely_  horrible," Ron allowed. "It's just... you."

"Me?" Hermione said blankly, and Ron nodded.

"There are just these...  _Hermione_ things that you do, and whenever I see them I just... it's you!"

She spent at least five minutes just beaming at him, her heart skipping several beats in her chest as she inwardly sung the praises of the universe for giving her the most wonderful and adorable best friend ever. In all her thirteen years, Hermione had never met anyone quite like him. He was the cutest boy she'd ever seen, and the funniest she'd ever met, and she suddenly realized that she couldn't really imagine the rest of her school days without picturing him right beside her, copying her notes, reading her homework over her shoulder, badgering the heck out of her and, on the rare occasion, surprising her in an absolutely wonderful way.

"You know you have your Ron things, too, right?" she said, and he looked surprised.

"Such as?"

"You make a certain face when you're contemplating your next chess move, and you eat exactly the same way every night, and while I can still only tell half of what you're saying when you talk with your mouth full, I'm well on my way to being able to tell seventy percent. And you have this look you give me when you're pleading with me to do your homework for you."

She chose not to mention the fact that the tips of his ears turned red when he was nervous, angry, or embarrassed. Hermione had a feeling he already knew that.

"Is it bad?"

"What?"

"The face I make at you."

"Oh!" Hermione said, and then she shook her head. "No, more like endearing, with the occasional twinge of annoyance."

She couldn't believe she was saying these things. Glancing down at her watch, Hermione decided that talking to Ron at one in the morning really tended to make her reveal things she hadn't been intending on revealing just yet.

"I do like to be annoying," Ron said, perking up a little bit, and Hermione snorted.

"I know you do, Ron." She suddenly turned red. "I must have looked so awful as a cat."

"Where did that come from?" Ron wanted to know, but Hermione didn't say anything, just burrowed her head in her hands in embarrassment. "It wasn't that bad, Hermione. I don't know why you're so concerned about it."

Hermione looked up.

"Really?" she asked, and Ron nodded.

"The disconcerting thing about the whole event is that your eyes haven't gone back to normal yet, and I miss... I, um, I... it's not the same," he finished lamely.

Hermione closed her eyes.

"Better?" she asked.

"A little," Ron admitted. "You don't look perpetually stressed out about homework when your eyes are closed."

Hermione's eyes flew open.

"Homework!" she moaned, beating a fist against the bed. "Merlin's pants, I'm missing so many lessons! I wasn't even thinking about it! RON WEASLEY!"

Ron smirked at her.

"I think we both agreed that I like to be annoying sometimes."

"Oh, shut up."

There was a pause, then Hermione said,

"Ron?"

"Uh-huh?" he replied, taken aback by how serious her voice was.

"I never got to thank you."

"For what?"

"For defending me. From Malfoy."

He turned his reddest color yet as he avoided her eyes.

"It was nothing," he told her. "I would have done the same thing for Harry, of course."

"Of course," Hermione allowed.

But she knew in her heart that he had never vomited slugs for Harry. And that was what made all the difference.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because sometimes, to fall asleep, all you need is your best friend. Your boyfriend. Your fiancee. Your wife. Your soul mate. A collection of 30 moments in a lifetime during which Ron and Hermione just couldn't fall asleep.

**Chapter Four  
** _Second Year: 1993_

There were many things at Hogwarts that one could be confused about. The moving staircases. The talking statues and singing suits of amour. The classes themselves. The secret passageways. The mysteries that always seemed to be surrounding the school. But Ron had found over the past year that the thing about Hogwarts that confused him most wasn't the castle itself, but the inhabitants of the castle. And for Ron Weasley, there was a certain person who lived inside the castle that confused him most of all. More than anyone and anything, Hermione Granger was the bane of his existence, and had been since his first day at Hogwarts. Of course, it would have been so much easier if she'd been able to go on being the bane of his existence, but of course there had to be that added variable where she inexplicably became the best part of his day. He knew it was strange for Hermione Granger to be the best part of his day, but she was, and this was something Ron could not understand. What about Hermione made her the person he most looked forward to seeing when he woke up in the morning?

It would have been absolutely wonderful if Ron had been able to continue looking at Hermione like he had that first day on the train. But no! Instead he had to go and get to  _know_  her, therefore ending any misconceptions he was perfectly happy holding about her obviously flawed personality. As he had started understanding Hermione more, he had realized that she was nothing like he had first thought she was. Yes, she was smart…she was definitely smart. But, unfortunately for him, she was a lot more than that. She was kind. She was empathetic and sympathetic and concerned for the wellbeing of everyone around her. If you asked her to help you with your homework, she would do it. No matter who you are, no matter how you treated her- unless you were Malfoy-she would help you out. When Ron had first met her, he had thought that they were completely different people. But, on the contrary to that, she had a thirst to prove herself- Ron felt that, too. They were definitely alike in that way, although their goals for greatness were for slightly different reasons. His was to become better than his brothers. Hermione's was to show everyone that she belonged in this world that she was not born into. Ron hated the fact that she needed to do this, in any case. It was the fault of people like Malfoy, who made Hermione feel as though she does not belong here when everyone knows she does.

When he had first met Hermione Granger, Ron had been certain that she would be the single most bothersome person at Hogwarts. He had been sure that she was books and cleverness, and that was absolutely it. When he looked at her, he saw a girl that was spoiled, a girl that was a snob. A girl who purposefully tried to be obnoxious because she wanted to show everyone that she was better. He thought that she was the kind of girl that didn't see any of her flaws because she was so obsessed with what was wonderful about herself. As he'd gotten to know her, he'd understood that Hermione felt an insecurity that he could easily relate to. She knew her character flaws, but somewhere along the way she had chosen to be herself in spite of the fact that who she was sometimes annoyed the hell out of people. Best of all, Ron had discovered that when Hermione randomly started spewing facts out of her mouth, she did it because she thought they would benefit others, not because she was trying to be obnoxious. Indeed, that had been one of the strangest days he'd had in his thirteen years of life. It had been the day that he'd looked past Hermione's large hair and even larger teeth and seen her as someone who he could have a friendship with. And now there they were. Friends.

Although, it had to be said, she really did have rather large teeth. They were endearing now to him, of course, but it had to be said how large they were. As a matter of fact, if Hermione and Neville ever got together and had kids, Ron was sure that the kids would look like beavers, what with the gene for buckteeth coming at them strong in both directions.

And then, suddenly, it happened. A flash of something strange went through Ron's stomach. He had no idea what it was, but it had started when he'd begun thinking about Neville and Hermione being together... Ron frowned, confused at his reaction to this mental image. He asked himself what the big deal was. After musing about this for several minutes, Ron came to the conclusion that it was over protectiveness of Hermione. Granted, Neville was the only guy at Hogwarts who was in her league, so it might end up going that way anyways. But the idea of another boy coming along and stealing his best friend- his study partner- felt a little bit nerve wracking. Boys and girls in their year were starting to pair off, starting to date. What if Neville asked Hermione out? What if she helped him with his homework instead of helping Ron?  _That_ had to be what he was concerned about, right- Hermione not having the time to help him with homework? Ron couldn't think of anything else that would make him upset about Hermione dating Neville. She was  _his_. His person who he went to for homework help, who was always there to nag him and listen to his jokes and have light little tiffs with. His. He briefly considered going upstairs and asking Harry if he would have a problem with Neville and Hermione dating, but decided against it. First of all, Ron was much too lazy to move from his spot in front of the fire. Second of all, he thought a question like that might bring up some very awkward questions. So Ron kept his thoughts to himself, pondering the strange and mysterious idea that was his mind.

Perhaps it was because he had never had a female friend before. He didn't really know how it was supposed to go, how it differed from having male friends, of which he'd had plenty. He wondered if it was very normal for his feelings for Hermione to be so very different than those he felt for Harry. Harry was his brother, and Hermione was supposed to be his sister. Speaking of sisters, it would probably do well for him to go and ask his own exactly how it felt having a platonic relationship with a guy and see if she felt jealous at the prospect of them dating other girls. Actually, no, he probably shouldn't. She'd take the mickey out of him, for the love of Merlin. But that was beside the point. For some strange reason, Hermione was the person he was the most excited to see in the morning, and Ron didn't really know why. Well, the issue was, he didn't think he'd give a flying rat's arse if Harry went off and dated some girl. It might be odd if Harry dated Hermione, though. Ron would be a third wheel then, wouldn't he? He would be the tag-along, the one that they didn't want there but ended up there anyways. And he couldn't imagine Harry and Hermione in a relationship like that, anymore than he could imagine himself and Hermione in a relationship like that. It would be just weird- the idea of snogging Hermione was absolutely repulsive. Especially with those enormous teeth.

Wait... it was repulsive, wasn't it?

He gritted his teeth, azure eyes staring into the blazing fire. Ron could absolutely pinpoint the day that his confusion had started. It had been that night when he had gone to see Hermione in the hospital wing. He'd been unable to fall asleep that night, and so he'd grabbed Harry's cloak and gone for a walk. He hadn't exactly meant to start walking and end up at the hospital wing, but he had. Something about it had drawn him there, and he knew in his heart that the thing was Hermione. So he'd gone in, and he'd loved seeing her face as she tried to fall asleep, so much more peaceful than it was at anytime during the day. Until he'd mentioned homework, of course, and then she'd gone into freak out mode again. The thought still made him laugh a little bit on the inside. Except the rest of the visit... that had been where this had all started. He'd realized that he knew much more about Hermione than he'd initially thought. He'd been learning things about her, cataloging them in his mind without even trying to. And, strangest yet, she'd known things about him, too. Those little things that he didn't think she knew about Harry. Ron still remembered that odd sense of euphoria he'd felt when she'd started listing all of his endearing traits. It had been a weird mix of triumph and nerves. He'd never exactly felt those two contradiction emotions together, and wondered what they meant. And her eyes! There was something off about seeing her with those cat eyes, too. He missed those brown pools of wonderfulness.

Goodness gracious, had he really just thought that? Brown...pools...of...wonderfulness? Merlin's pants, he had to change the subject fast!

He could still remember the desolation that had stolen over him when McGonagall had showed them Hermione's still, petrified body. The past weeks, he had woken up in the morning expecting her to be at breakfast begging him to study. Then a sense of desperation would take over him as he remembered the fact that she wouldn't be at breakfast, and that he wouldn't hear her voice or see her eyes all day. Classes had seemed so quiet without her- he missed her leaping to the sky in her seat next to him, need to answer the question taking over all forms of dignity. It was so strange for Hermione to be incapacitated that way. She was easily one of the strongest people he knew, and he was a  _Weasley_. But somehow, in the back of his mind, Ron had made Hermione invincible. He had forgotten then she was a human, and that she could get hurt too. When the Muggleborn attacks had started, he hadn't really thought Hermione would be getting attacked. They had needed her to be there, to be their friend, to solve the mystery, to nag the life out of them. She was okay now, though. He had to keep reminding himself of this fact. She was fine. Ron could still remember how it had felt to see her running towards him and Harry in the Great Hall earlier that night. He'd felt a slight prickling on the back of his neck, and instinctively turned around to see Hermione standing in the door of the Great Hall. Ron's heart had jumped into his throat upon seeing her face, and Harry, upon seeing the joyful look on his best friends' face, had turned around to see what was going on. In light of the fact that they had solved the mystery, Ron hadn't been able to really talk to her since. So when he heard a sudden noise in the common room and turned to see Hermione standing on the foot of the girl's dorm's staircase, simply staring at him, he was glad to see her.

"Hi," he greeted, and she smiled and came to join him.

"What are you doing down here?" she inquired, and he shrugged.

"Probably the same thing you are, I suppose."

"Mind too full of thoughts, then?" she asked, sitting down on the couch next to him. He noticed that she was in a white nightdress, so pretty and innocent looking. He actually quite liked it. It was definitely better than that pink bathrobe she had worn the year before. This was so much looser, and it made her skin look like china. Like she was breakable. He supposed she had been a few hours ago, but now she was back, and he was so grateful.

"Yeah," Ron admitted.

"I have a lot, too," Hermione told him, smiling a little bit. "You can't really think when you're petrified, so I have a bit of thought to catch up on."

"You think too much," Ron told her, smiling endearingly at the familiar phrase.

"And you think too little," Hermione shot back.

"So I've heard," he said, and then, in a highly accurate impression of her he said, "'Oh, honestly, don't you two read?'"

"Oooh, nice job!" Hermione said, applauding sarcastically. "Next time, a little more emphasis on the  _read_ , alright?"

"Right," Ron said, and then he grinned lopsidedly at her. Sudden affection for the young girl in front of him was taking over, and it was in a fit of random melancholy that he said, "I missed you, you know."

"Did you?" Hermione asked, looking pleasantly surprised. "Well, I would have missed you, I'm sure, but I was sort of petrified and couldn't think." He didn't find out until many years later that he had been the first person she'd thought of when she'd woken up. "Did you get your homework done while I was gone?"

"Yeah, I did," he told her. "Every time I wanted to play another game of wizards' chess, this little voice in the back of my mind nagged me to start doing my homework. So I did."

Hermione looked slightly flattered at this. Ron took her moment of hesitation to admire the way the moonlight added colors to her bushy hair.

Pants, was this normal?

"Did anything change while I was gone?"  _Besides you getting taller, of course,_  she added silently.

"Not really."  _Except the days were kind of empty without you_ , he said in his head.

"I'm glad," Hermione admitted. "I hate change."

"Me too," Ron said. "Change is horrible."

"Agreed."

"Nothing should ever change, as a matter of fact."

"Oh, definitely."

He suddenly stopped talking and just looked at her. When he finally spoke, it was in a very sincere voice.

"Do me a favor, Hermione?"

And she didn't hesitate in answering "Anything," because at the time she didn't think that there was anything to be read into.

"Don't you go off and get yourself petrified again, alright?"

"I'll try."


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because sometimes, to fall asleep, all you need is your best friend. Your boyfriend. Your fiancee. Your wife. Your soul mate. A collection of 30 moments in a lifetime during which Ron and Hermione just couldn't fall asleep.

**Chapter Five  
** _Third Year: 1993_

It was common knowledge that Ron Weasley had a raging temper. He got angry at his mum for calling him Ronald and for making him clean his room. He got angry at Fred and George for mercilessly teasing him. He got angry at Ginny one time when he caught her trying to break into the broom shed to steal his broomstick. He got angry at his Auntie Murial for being the rudest, most obnoxious person ever to live. He got angry at Snape and Malfoy for pretty much everything they ever did. He got mad at Percy for being obsessed with being Head Boy, obsessed with power, obsessed with being a bigger prat than Martin Miggs, Mad Muggle. He got mad at McGonagall for giving out too much homework. He got mad at Flitwick for being far too cheerful when Ron was in a terrible mood.

Ron Weasley had a well-known temper. But never, ever had he experienced a form of anger like this. Getting angry at Hermione-really and truly angry, not just some playful bickering like his parents did on the odd occasion-was the most difficult but strongest form of anger he had ever felt in his entire life. He was fourteen years old, and many things infuriated him, but none more so than Hermione Granger. What was wrong with her, anyways? Getting that stupid cat that was set on killing his rat. It wasn't fair to Scabbers, it wasn't fair to Ron, and Hermione was simply being the most infuriating person he had ever met! The worst part of this anger, however, was not the fact that Hermione was infuriating. It was the fact that, through the angst and annoyance and loathing, he missed her. He missed her more than he missed his mum's cooking when he went to Hogwarts, and that was saying something. He felt horrible because he knew he was hurting her, and he  _hated_ hurting her like this, and he hated that he hated hurting her like this!

He was a mess, and it was all her fault, and he still cared about her! There had to be something wrong with him, because the idea that Hermione kept right on drawing his attention back to her was simply too much for him to take. He didn't even understand why! It didn't make sense to him why he still gave a flying rat's arse about this girl- not when he loathed her so much. Why did she have to buy that stupid cat? Without Crookshanks, none of this would have ever happened, and Ron would have been so much happier for it. But since that cat had arrived, everything had changed. One minute he had been chastising himself for admiring Hermione's tan, and the next she had bought the very cat that had just tried to scalp him just moments before. Scabbers simply hadn't been the same since, and neither had his relationship with Hermione. Didn't she understand what his rat meant to him? Ron loved to pretend like he didn't care about Scabbers, but in all honestly he did. Scabbers was the first pet he'd ever had, and probably the last he'd have for a while. If the rat died, Ron wasn't going to be getting another one in replacement. He remembered that every time he relived that sickened feeling he got whenever he saw the inside of his parents' vault and felt guilty about every little thing, such as growing too tall for his robes and needing new books. How could he possibly ask for a new pet? No, Scabbers would be all he ever had.

It didn't help that Crookshanks was a fellow ginger. Ron had thought that gingers were supposed to stick together, but apparently Crookshanks hadn't gotten the message. He was constantly hissing at Ron and being too protective of Hermione. It was as if Crookshanks had this strange need to protect Hermione from Ron, as though he thought Ron was somehow going to hurt Hermione. Which was absurd, of course. What could Ron do to hurt Hermione? Yes, they bickered, but she was his friend. He was always concerned for her wellbeing and happiness. As a matter of fact, he felt that she had hurt him more than he could ever hurt her. There was a little part of Ron, however silly that part might be, that thought Hermione had been replacing him by buying Crookshanks. He knew it was stupid, but the cat was ginger, and he couldn't understand why Hermione would buy a ginger cat except for the idea that Hermione would be wanting to substitute him for a less annoying, more furry version that couldn't talk. There was a strange sense of competition between the two of them, trying to vie for Hermione's affections, be the one she liked best. It didn't help, of course, that Ron kept getting into fights with her, and was currently not on speaking terms with her. He had a feeling that Crookshanks was pulling way ahead of him in this race.

But Ron was worried about Hermione. She wasn't looking very well as of late. She bolted down her meals before running off to study, and sometimes she forgot to eat altogether. Whenever this happened, Ron had been grabbing food off the table and drop it off wherever she was studying, but now that they were fighting he wasn't sure if that was a good idea anymore. Hermione tended to take everything he did as an offensive sign and react defensively, even though he was just trying to be nice. He decided it would be best if he just left her to it and trusted Hermione to know when she was about to faint from lack of nourishment. He didn't like it, though, and often encouraged Harry to bring her food even though he couldn't. Ron hated seeing her do this to herself, and couldn't understand how she was getting it all done, either. Had they still been friends, Ron was sure he would have been able to talk Hermione out of whatever she was doing. Given the fact that he would eventually be able to wear her down and get her to tell him how she was doing it in the first place. He still couldn't figure it out. Hermione's classes were all at the same time- how could she be getting to all of them? And how in Merlin's name did she have time for all that homework? This wasn't even the hardest year of school- did Hermione really intend to do this for the last four years of Hogwarts? Ron had always thought she was barmy, but this was really pushing it. Of course, he couldn't help but be slightly offended at the fact that she hadn't told him and Harry what was going on, even while she and Ron hadn't been fighting. He told her everything!

Well, everything except how confusing he found her.

Something felt off. It was preventing Ron from falling asleep: this strange feeling in his gut that told him he'd forgotten something that he had to do. Pulling a Hermione, Ron went through all of his homework for every subject in his head. But everything was completed. Well, everything that was due the next day, at least. There wasn't any schoolwork he had to do, so it must be an extracurricular thing. Had he forgotten the birthday of a relative or family member? It wouldn't be the first time, what with the enormous number of Weasleys, but Ron couldn't think of anyone born in this month besides Charlie, who'd already had his birthday. Trying to ignore the knot in his stomach, Ron turned over in his bed and punched his pillow into a better shape. He closed his eyes, but in a few seconds was up, still feeling like something was wrong. Finally coming to the conclusion that he had left something in the common room, Ron got out of bed and quickly made his way down the stone staircase, trying to remember what he must have forgotten down there. But as he turned the corner, the cause of his anxiety became apparent. And he didn't like it one bit.

Somehow, he must have known inwardly that Hermione was down in the common room working her arse off. He could see the dread and desperation in her eyes, so horrified at the prospect of not getting her homework done in time. While he appreciated her need for learning (not really), he thought she was absolutely mad for doing all this. Slowly, he made his way down the staircase, anxiousness in his stomach evolving into nerves as he watched his best friend work relentlessly. Ron paused on the staircase. He'd just called her his best friend. Oh, Merlin. He was screwed. Shaking his head, Ron approached Hermione's table nearly silently.

"You should be asleep."

Hermione looked up, confused. She'd recognized Ron's voice, but couldn't see why he'd come all the way downstairs just to tell her to go to bed. Upon seeing Ron there, her brows creased, and she stared at him uncertainly.

"I can't," she told him finally.

"And why not?"

"I have so much work left to do!"

He stared around at the various textbooks lying around the large table and felt a twinge of sympathy somewhere in his stomach.

"Hermione, why are you doing all of this?"

She looked up at him, confusion written all over her face. He didn't quite understand what she was so confused about. What was there to misunderstand about the question?

"I have to."

"No, you really don't."

She stared at him, biting her lip. Ron forced himself to look away from this, feeling bad about staring at it.

"Who are you to say that I don't have to do this?" she asked him finally. Anger was evident in your voice. "You don't care about me, Ron. Remember?"

It was painful to hear her say that, especially when he knew he did still want to be her friend. If he didn't care about her, he doubted this fight would be so strong. Forcefully, he was reminded of a similar argument his parents had gotten into when he was young. He couldn't quite remember the context, but what he did remember was that it had been more than just a tiff. His parents loved each other very much, but they also enjoyed soft bickering. Their children were quite used to it. What the Weasley kids weren't used to was full blown fights, full of venom and anger, much like him and Hermione were going through now. Ron remembered Fred and George sneaking out of their room to see what was wrong, and Ginny running up to the attic as to join Ron in his bedroom, needing to get away from the yelling. He remembered slipping downstairs to check if they'd stopped shouting yet, and wincing as he'd heard those same words coming from his mother's mouth.

"Who are you to say, Arthur?" she'd asked snappily. "You obviously don't care about me."

"Would I have married you if I didn't love you, Molly?" his dad had asked, exasperated.

"Maybe. We eloped! It was spur of the moment."

Ron remembered seeing his dad's eyes soften, and it was as if the root of the whole problem had suddenly been spotted and fixed.

"Molly, I love you," he'd said sincerely. "I love you, and I love our children, and I love raising my children with you. Never think that I don't again, because you're the best thing that ever happened to me, and I don't know what I'd do without you."

Ron remembered his mother tentatively standing up to hug her husband, fresh tears running from her eyes. It seemed to him that this was exactly what she had needed to hear. His father was by no means a romantic, but when it came to Molly, Arthur seemed to understand what to do. It was a skill Ron admired. He remembered listening to a conversation once during which Bill claimed he was having trouble getting it right with a girl, and remembered his father saying,

"Bill, you only need to be able to understand one girl, and after that you're set forever."

Ron looked at Hermione, quivering in her school uniform, looking up at him with unspoken fury and anger and heartbreak.

"Hermione, that's just not true."

"What's not true?" she asked, her voice colder than it had been a few moments ago.

"I still care about you. You're... you're my best friend. I just strongly dislike you right now."

She actually mustered a little smile, so tiny that it melted Ron's heart.

"Thanks, then," Hermione whispered, and Ron grinned at her.

"You could say it back," he prodded.

"I don't hate you," Hermione told him, smiling slightly.

And there they were. Comfortable. Happy. Together.

"Let's just say, for now at least, I forget the fact that I'm royally pissed off at you and help you with your homework?"

Hermione raised her eyebrow.

"You helping me with my homework?" she laughed. "You're kidding!"

"I'm not, actually. C'mon, there has to be something I can do."

Hermione furrowed her brow.

"Er- how adept are you at taking notes?"

"Not very. I'm good at copying yours, though!"

She rolled her eyes.

"That'll be of absolutely no help to me. Or you, for that matter. Actually, I think this is a perfect example of why you should learn to write your own notes, come to think of it."

"Oh, piss off," Ron sighed, rolling his eyes, and Hermione laughed genially.

"Fine. What if you read the passage to me and I'll take notes on it? It'll go faster that way. I can multi task."

"Sounds good. I'm pretty good at reading, you know."

"You shock me!" Hermione said dramatically.

"Oh, budge over," Ron smirked, and she slid over so that he could occupy the other side of the love seat she was perched on. He picked up the book Hermione handed him and began to read, and as he did so Hermione scribbled furiously on her parchment. She felt her muscles relax as she listened. Somehow, someway, his voice and his presence had calmed her. She had been near tears before. Now, she was pretty much content. She felt a strong urge to lean over and place her head on his shoulder, but made every effort to keep herself from doing so. The effort had her body stiffening unbecomingly and awkwardly. Ron was so focused on reading he didn't notice, and soon the sound of his voice had once more soothed her. They worked their way through all her extra homework, and soon they got it done. Ron rose, stretching, around two o'clock in the morning. Hermione looked exhausted, but happy.

"I'm going to treat you the same way as I have been in the morning," Ron said. "You know that, right?"

Hermione smiled sadly.

"I really wouldn't expect anything less of you," she said honestly but painstakingly. Silently, they headed to the staircases. On the bottom step, Hermione looked like she was dithering on saying something. Ron stood patiently as she wrestled with herself, waiting for the outburst. Long at last, she just smiled softly at him and said, "Thank you so much, Ron. Thank you," before heading up the stairs. He watched her go, thinking back all those years ago to what his father had said to Bill.

_You only need to be able to understand one girl, and after that you're set forever._


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because sometimes, to fall asleep, all you need is your best friend. Your boyfriend. Your fiancee. Your wife. Your soul mate. A collection of 30 moments in a lifetime during which Ron and Hermione just couldn't fall asleep.

**Chapter Six  
** _Third Year: 1994_

He hated lying there. He hated having a broken leg. Most of all, he hated the fact that Hermione and Harry had gone on an adventure and not allowed him to come. He could feel the fire igniting in his soul, anger and something else, something he couldn't identify and didn't know if he wanted to. Why didn't he want to? Ron knew himself well enough to know that when he didn't want to think about something he was feeling, it meant that it was bad. And it also meant that he was in denial. So Ron chose not to delve into his deep personal feelings and figure out what was wrong. Instead, he decided to brood silently about how Harry and Hermione had simply dissipated into thin air and left him to his own, stupid thoughts. Inwardly, Ron cursed. He hated what the ministry was doing to Sirius Black, but he was also right pissed at the man for breaking his bloody leg and preventing him from going off with Harry and Hermione. Why him? Why did this have to happen to him, of all people? Why couldn't Scabbers have been the pet of Draco Malfoy, and then Sirius could have nearly bitten off Malfoy's leg instead of Ron's? That would have been so much more preferable.

The worst part was how happy Harry and Hermione had looked when they got back from their little mission. While Ron had been lying in bed, they had simultaneously saved Buckbeak and Sirius. And they had done it all completely by themselves. They hadn't needed him at all. Ron bit his lip to keep himself from groaning with anger. Was he really holding Harry and Hermione back? Was he holding them back from  _everything_? If he was a hindrance on adventures, he must be a hindrance to their everyday lives, too. Maybe they would all be better off if he just left them to it. Harry, the courage. Hermione, the brains. Ron... what? What was he? The funny one? How did being funny help the case at all? He held them back. They hadn't needed him tonight, and they would probably never need him. And now Harry and Hermione had a little secret, while Ron had spent most of the night in the dark. They'd told him some of it, of course, but both of them had been tired, and Ron knew he hadn't heard the whole story. He was right pissed that Harry got to hear about Hermione's time turner before him. Hadn't Ron been the one who had stayed up late into the night to help Hermione when they were supposed to be sleeping? And yet he was the one who had watched her take something that was around her neck, throw it around Harry, and vanish off into thin air. He'd watched it, wondering if it was what he thought it was, but dismissing this almost at once. How would Hermione have gotten a time turner?

And then he'd thought about it. If she'd had a time turner, that would explain this entire year to him. It would explain how she'd gotten to all of her classes. It would explain how she'd gotten to all her exams. It would explain why she'd appear at random times during the class and start answering the questions as if she'd been sitting beside Ron the whole time, when he  _knew_  she hadn't. He paid attention to these things. He always seemed to know when Hermione was around- there was something about her that gave it away instantly. First of all, a familiar girly scent would tickle his nostrils. Second of all, he was more aware of himself when she was around. He still didn't know why. What he did know was that Hermione having a time turner would be a perfect explanation for why Hermione couldn't just drop all of her classes and take the regular ones. She couldn't because McGonagall had probably gone to great lengths to get her that time turner, and Hermione would think of it as letting her mentor down if she couldn't complete the job she'd started. Yes, it would explain the past year perfectly well. But if it really was a time turner, that meant that, earlier, Dumbledore had encouraged Hermione to break a law. Not simply a school rule, but a law. She had complied very easily. And she had gotten the job done. Without him. Again.

"You're brooding," said a voice down the corridor, and Ron bolted up in bed in alarm before he realized Hermione had spoken. Heart calming, he slunk back down to his pillows. Then he chanced a glance at Harry, sleeping peacefully next to him. Hermione's voice, which had to be loud seeing as she was at the other end of the hospital wing, hadn't woken him up.

"So?" Ron said shortly. "What's it to you?"

Hermione sighed, and he could hear it even though she was rather far away.

"It's really stupid, Ron."

"Yeah, well, that's me," he muttered angrily. " _Stupid_."

"I said your thought was stupid. I didn't say that you, yourself, are a stupid person."

"It was implied."

"It was  _not_ , and you know it."

There was silence until Hermione let out another sigh and got out of her bed, bringing her pillow. She walked along the long room until she reached Ron, plopping down onto the bed next to him in a white nightgown that was slightly shorter than the last one he'd seen her in. He wondered if it was the one from over a year ago, and Hermione had just grown. That or she was starting to raise her hemlines. For some reason, this thought made him temporarily rather happy. Until, that is, he remembered that he was supposed to be scathing, and he forced a scowl onto his face.

"You're not supposed to be over here."

Hermione raised her eyebrow.

"Do you really care?"

"No," Ron admitted, "but Madam Pomfrey might."

"True," Hermione allowed. "Well, let's just hope she doesn't wake up so that I can give you a pep talk and sneak back to my own bed."

"A pep talk?" Ron echoed, looking angry. "What do you mean? Why would I need one?"

"Because you're _brooding_ ," Hermione said patiently. "Over absolutely nothing."

Nothing. That was what he was. He was nothing. She had just good as admitted it.

"How did you know I was brooding, anyways?" Ron asked angrily. "You were all the way down there."

For some inexplicable reason, Hermione blushed. It looked rather strange in the moonlight.

"I don't know," she said, shrugging her shoulders. He noticed that she tightened her hold around the pillow. "I knew you weren't asleep because you weren't snoring."

"That's all?"

Hermione shook her head.

"No. I just... I had a feeling."

It was funny. A few months ago, he'd had a funny feeling that had led him down to the common room, where Hermione had been on the verge of a nervous breakdown. And now she'd had a feeling about  _him_... Ron had never heard of anything like that, but he smiled in the dark. It must be mark of how strong their friendship was, and he liked that. A lot.

"Well, if you're so smart, tell me why I'm brooding?"

Hermione's squinted at him in the darkness.

"I don't know," she said finally. "I can think of several possibilities, but none of them seem very plausible because they're all ridiculously stupid, so why don't you just come out and say it so that I don't have to tell you my theories and offend you and start a row that takes the whole of summer vacation to solve?"

"Hmmm. When you put it that way..." Ron said, and Hermione laughed.

"Go on, then."

But he didn't want to tell her. It made him feel so weak. Hermione waited, just staring at him with an amicable expression on her face.

"Promise not to laugh?" he asked eventually.

"Why would I laugh?"

"In case I'm being silly."

"Alright," Hermione said, looking as though she was struggling not to smile. "I promise."

Ron hesitated again.

"If I'm right, lie," he suggested, in a tone he hoped was more commanding than pleading.

"Okay," Hermione said again.

"No, wait, I changed my mind."

"Oh, Ron. Does it really matter?"

"Yes!" Ron said indignantly. "Yes, it does, because what if I'm wrong but I think you're lying and that effects me? No, no, it's better just to have the truth."

He was shocked at the words that were falling from his own lips, but couldn't seem to stop them. He knew it had to be a combination of pain killers and incessant brooding, but it was still surprising and he tried not to turn red.

Hermione sighed.

"Could you just tell me what's wrong now so that I can fix it and go to bed?"

Ron smiled. She did seem to constantly be fixing things for him, didn't she?

"Right," he said. "Yeah."

There was a long pause.

"I haven't got all night, you know."

"Actually, you do," Ron whispered cheerily, and Hermione let out a loud laugh before covering her mouth with her hand.

"Just do it Ron. Like ripping off a band aid."

He sat in silence for a few more minutes before saying,

"You didn't need me tonight."

Hermione seemed to let out a sigh of relief.

"Oh, that's all?"

"Hey!" Ron protested. "What do you mean, that's all?"

"Well, it's total bull, isn't it?"

"I don't know," Ron said, a little surprised that Hermione was swearing so readily. But he was proud of her too. Apparently he was a bad influence on her. Excellent. "Is it?"

"Yes, it is," Hermione said firmly. "You're so self deprecating sometimes, Ron."

"You've just figured that out?" Ron asked, a little hurt by how up front she was being. He appreciated her honesty nonetheless. And it didn't hurt that her delivery was in a sweet voice that wasn't meant for wounding, but rather healing. "Even after you've known me for two years and I've told you about my brother issues?"

"No, I haven't just figured it out," Hermione promised. "It just struck me particularly hard at that moment."

"Good for you," Ron said, and Hermione rolled her eyes at how grumpy he was acting.

"Harry and I always need you," she told him. "You know that, right? Matter of fact, it's the two of you who don't need me."

"What are you on about?" Ron asked, indignant on her behalf. "How would we get anything done without you? You're the brains of this operation. We wouldn't be able to function without you."

"But you'd be fine without me."

"If by fine you mean flunking out of school, then yes, we would."

"No, Ron," Hermione said, now sounding frustrated. "Your friendship would be fine. And without you, I'm afraid it simply isn't the same with me and Harry."

"What do you mean?" Ron asked, his heart leaping a little bit.

"Harry doesn't like hanging around the library all the time. And I don't like how gloomy he is when he's in there. You find a balance. You're the glue that holds us together, you make the both of us able to be around each other without getting too serious about what's going on."

"That's me," Ron said, now looking down again. "The bloody comic relief."

"Don't swear," Hermione snapped, before saying, "Oh, Ron, I don't think you understand just how important comic relief is."

"It's not."

"It is! There are some days when I feel like getting up and grabbing all the books from the shelves and throwing them at Snape's head. And then you make a joke, and I'm able to calm down, relax into my work and remember that life isn't all serious."

Ron paused.

"Wow. I'm going to make jokes less often. I _really_  want to see you take on Snape."

"Oh, shut up," Hermione chuckled.

"I think you'd win," Ron said sincerely.

Hermione laughed for a moment before saying,

"Alright, so do you get what I'm saying?"

Ron shook his head.

"I respectfully disagree."

"Why?" Hermione asked, surprised.

"Because that's not the thing I'm concerned about. Tonight, when you and Harry were in danger, you didn't need me, and you got through it all without me. It wouldn't have made a difference if I was there. No, scratch that. I would have mucked the whole thing up, wouldn't I have?"

"Of course not," Hermione said smoothly. "You would have done wonderfully. And next time I have something dangerous or life threatening to do, you'll be the first person I call upon."

"Do you mean that?"

"I really do."

"Aw. Hermione."

She smiled, looking satisfied.

"All good now?"

And Ron nodded, because it was. He stared off into the distance, waiting for her to go back to her own bed, but she didn't. He turned to look at her.

"Uhg. I can't believe there was a grown man sleeping in my bed for three years and I didn't even know it."

Hermione snorted, before seeing the look on Ron's face and making her own expression more horrified.

"Er- picture me punching Malfoy."

"Ah, yes," Ron said, looking satisfied. "Thanks, Hermione. You really know how to take care of a bloke."

He turned bright red at the sentence and resisted the urge to hide his head in his hands, hoping she wouldn't notice his flush in the darkened room.

"Now do me a favor, Ron?" Hermione asked.

And it was his turn to say the thing to her she'd been saying to him this time the year before.

"Anything?"

A large grin crossed Hermione's face.

"Play a game of wizards' chess with me before we go to bed?" she asked, sneakily pulling a chessboard out of her pillowcase. Apparently, she had gotten it from her dorm when she'd gone to get her pajamas and brought it into the hospital wing without Madam Pomfrey noticing. He beamed at her, his heart seeming to swell with affection for his best friend.

"I thought you'd never ask."


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because sometimes, to fall asleep, all you need is your best friend. Your boyfriend. Your fiancee. Your wife. Your soul mate. A collection of 30 moments in a lifetime during which Ron and Hermione just couldn't fall asleep.

**Chapter Seven**   
_Fourth Year: 1994_

For the first time in a long time, it was awkward. Hermione couldn't remember the last time it had been like this, but for the past few weeks all they seemed to be able to do was bump into each other and turn bright red. Hermione couldn't remember a time where she had ever blushed more, and she was getting rather sick of how often her face turned a bright vivid red that matched Ron's hair. Lucky for her, it wasn't hard to pinpoint the problem. The issue was Ron himself, actually. She'd been catching him staring at her quite a lot of late, and it wasn't a friendly stare, either. It was with creased eyebrows, a puzzled expression and an uncharacteristically deep look in his blue eyes. Hermione wasn't exactly sure when it had started, but it must have been the day the Yule Ball was announced. That was when it became strange to be in the same room as Ron, although she honestly would refuse to show it. Harry was completely oblivious to the tensions between them. Ron and Hermione, on the other hand, were not. Now, as they were sitting in the common room, working side by side on essays, neither of them wanted to go to bed. There was too much nervous energy in the air and it ensured that neither of them felt tired. Hermione's mind was buzzing, but her body was so tired, however, that the words of the essay were beginning to blur. She sat back and tried to pinpoint when the strangeness between her and Ron had kicked in.

Yes, it had started when the Yule Ball was announced, but it had gotten worse when Ron had realized Hermione had gotten her teeth shrunk. It seemed to her that he was absolutely shocked by the transformation and trying to commit this new face to memory. Or, at least, that would explain why he was staring at her. Why else would he look at her like that? Every time he saw her, he seemed absolutely bamboozled. Hermione couldn't understand what else it would be, although she was surprised that something as simple as her teeth changing could be so unsettling to Ron. Unless, of course... but, no. No, that couldn't be it, because that would be too good,  _unimaginably_  good, as a matter of fact. The thought brought on a smile to her face, and whenever Hermione was contemplating Ron's strange behavior she'd have to make up excuses as to why she was beaming. But, Merlin's pants! What if  _that_ idea she had was actually what was going on? Hermione beamed at the thought.

What if Ron was looking at her like that because he wanted to ask her to the ball? What if the reason he stared at her was because he was jealous of whoever she was going with, and he wished it were him? Of course, she hadn't exactly told Ron that she was going with Viktor Krum. And she didn't plan to, either. But what if the idea of someone else fancying her forced Ron to realize that he, too, fancied her? That would explain why he kept asking her whom she was going with. Harry hadn't been nearly as interested, and Hermione couldn't see why Ron would care so much, to be honest. Maybe he actually found her slightly attractive now that her teeth were normally sized and straight. The thought literally sent shivers up Hermione's spine- she couldn't believe how lucky she'd be if that were true. As a matter of fact, it almost made her regret saying yes to Viktor Krum. She was sure she'd have a lovely time with him, but she'd obviously have more fun with Ron. He was, after all, her best friend, and the boy she'd had a crush on for longer than she could remember.

Well, no, that wasn't exactly true. At fifteen years old, she honestly could remember a lot of her life. And Ron had unknowingly become a very major part of Hermione's existence, whose part would surely become even clearer later in her life. Well, at least, Hermione hoped. She couldn't see her feelings for Ron not cumulating to something. They had to lead to something eventually, right? She thought that the moment she'd started to fancy him must have been the first moment she'd met him, and she'd wondered how anyone could be so adorable with dirt on their nose. Of course, she hadn't recognized it for what it was at her age. As a matter of fact, she didn't really recognize it until third year, the night that Ron had stayed up late to help her with her homework. It had been so unbelievably sweet, because he hadn't been talking to her at the time, and the fact that he cared enough to seek her out and yell at her for doing too much was enough to make her heart almost burst with pure and simple satisfaction and adoration. As she'd walked away from him, fully aware that his eyes were still on her, she'd admitted it to herself for the first time.  _I fancy Ron_. Needless to say, she hadn't gotten much sleep that night. She'd spent most of her time, in fact, trying to figure out why she liked him so much, when he was probably the most flawed and least romantic boy she'd ever met in her life.

It was everything, really. His flaws had long since become endearments to her. She'd absolutely rejoiced the day she realized that understanding Ron when he was talking with his mouth full was second nature. She loved his blue eyes, eyes that conveyed just as much emotion as his facial expressions did. She thought his humor was the funniest thing she'd ever heard, and no one could make her laugh more. Hermione found herself constantly proud of his achievements, always rooting for him to do well somewhere in the back of her mind. She loved how big his hands were, even though he was only fourteen. She felt that his hands had potential. Actually, she felt that  _he_ had potential. Ron had little to no table manners and absolutely no tact, but on occasion Hermione would see little somethings shine through that were completely unprecedented to his personality. And she'd understand that, underneath Ron's mask of humor and confidence, he was this whole other person who she desperately wanted to get to know. Hermione had a feeling she'd like both Rons very much, but knew that he probably wasn't ready to share the hidden one with anyone just yet, except for on the rare occasion that he let go. So she'd wait. She'd wait for him to show her a side of him he wouldn't show anyone else, and she'd be patient. She promised herself she'd wait as long as he needed, because somewhere in the back of her mind Hermione had long ago decided that Ron Weasley was worth it.

Now, she sat there on the couch, studying him almost as much as he'd been studying her these past few days. She studied his profile, the jaw that was promising to turn into a strong one, the long legs that rested on the floor, tapping on occasion. She studied the legions of freckles he had everywhere on his body. She noticed how some places they were denser than other places on his body. She longed to reach out a finger and find little patterns in them, and tentatively she reached up and put a finger on the bridge of her nose. She knew there were a few freckles there, but in her opinion they weren't nearly as wonderful as Ron's. In Hermione's opinion, nothing of hers matched up to Ron's, as a matter of fact. His hair was so thick and gorgeous, so much better than her bushy, brown, _boring_ locks. His skin wasn't very smooth, but she found that fitting for his gender. She loved the blisters he got from playing Quidditch- any blister Hermione got was from writing too much. She enjoyed how long his nose was, and found it a very face-defining characteristic that she liked a lot. He was funnier than her, she knew that. He was looser than her, too. He took everything less seriously than she did, and that was one of the biggest differences between them. His family was better than hers. As a matter of fact, the only thing about Hermione that was better than Ron was her brain and study habits. And who wanted a girl for her study habits?

Hermione bit her lip. Now that she thought about it, Ron was probably way out of her league. He was so much better than her, wasn't he? And when all the other girls in school started discovering the fact that he covered up a much sweeter, more sensitive side, she was screwed. Ron had already proven this by saying he wanted to go to the ball with the prettiest girl who would come with him. If he based his choice in dates on looks, why in Merlin's good name would he pick Hermione? All of her insecurities came crashing down upon her, taunting her, telling her how she wasn't good enough for him or anyone and how he would never like her, and not even Viktor Krum would make him jealous when Ron could get so much better than her. He didn't need to deal with her bushy hair- if he ever snogged her he'd probably have trouble running his hands through it, anyways. And her brown eyes were so boring compared to those of the other girls. Ron deserved someone with blue eyes as gorgeous as his own. She'd been silly to consider the idea that Ronald Weasley would be asking her to the ball. As she realized this, Hermione sighed heavily and slumped back against the couch the two of them were sharing. Ron looked up from his essay, frowning at her with concerned eyes. She saw bits of the fire in front of the couch flickering in his eyes and resisted the urge to sigh dejectedly (and a little dreamily) at them.

"What's wrong?" Ron asked instantly.

"Nothing," Hermione said hurriedly.

"Yeah, that's likely," Ron huffed.

Hermione frowned.

"What do you mean by that? Are you insinuating that something is always wrong with me?" she asked heatedly, ready for a good bicker.

Tonight, however, Ron didn't really seem to be in "the mood".

"No!" he said quickly, throwing up his hands. "No, I meant that I could tell by the expression on your face that something was wrong."

She felt her heart melt at his words and Hermione resisted the urge to hug him, as she knew doing so would send him running for the hills. But that meant he knew something was wrong, and therefor she had to make something up. She wasn't sure where to go with it. Finally, she decided to default to her type-A personality and say,"Oh, you know, I'm just worried about Snape's essay. You know how tentative Potions grades are."

Ron nodded.

"I understand. I don't think you have anything to worry about, though."

"Why not?" Hermione inquired, a hint of a smile beginning to flit across her lips.

"Because you're bloody brilliant, that's why," Ron said, ardent in his words. Hermione laughed, loving his fervor.

"Thank you," she said sincerely, and he nodded easily.

She suddenly felt desperate to bring up the subject of the ball. "Have you asked someone yet?" she asked shortly.

"Er- what?" Ron asked, confused by the abrupt subject change.

"To the ball," Hermione clarified. "Have you asked someone to the ball?"

"Oh!" Ron said, turning a little bit red. "Er, no. I haven't."

"Is there someone you want to be asking?" Hermione inquired softly. Ron didn't meet her eyes as he replied, "Not really."

They sat there for a few minutes in uncomfortable silence, and Hermione once again inwardly lamented on how awkward and tense it was. She felt like she couldn't be herself around him suddenly, and it was odd because he was one of the only people who could see her unguarded, one of the only people who had seen her for who she is. She'd let him many times over again. She'd let Harry too, but for some inexplicable reason it was _always_ different with Harry Potter. She yawned as the nervous energy between them faded because they had spoken. She loved moments like these, even when it was awkward. It seemed to Hermione that she, Harry, and Ron hardly had much time to be regular teenagers. Most of their time at school had been dedicated to adventures and missions and plotting and plans and stopping evil. Suddenly, she turned to him, a thought striking her.

"What's your favorite color?" she asked.

"What do you think?" Ron questioned.

"Maroon," Hermione said playfully, and Ron laughed. "Actually, I always assumed it was orange, but I just realized I've never actually outright asked you."

"It is," Ron grinned. "Am I really that predictable?"

"I like it," Hermione said without thinking.

"Oh," was Ron's extremely eloquent response.

"I don't know your middle name, either," she told him, not caring if it was too forward to ask. Ron made a face.

"I hate my middle name," he admitted. "But I was named after this really great Uncle... I aspire to be just like him, matter of fact. Maybe just less... extreme."

"What is it?" Hermione prodded.

"What's yours?" Ron countered.

"Jean," Hermione said unblinkingly.

"Hermione Jean Granger," Ron said slowly.

 _Weasley_ , Hermione thought, smirking to herself. _Hermione Jean Granger Weasley. Hermione Weasley. Hey, I like it. Oh... shut up, brain._

"And yours?" Hermione said again, not one to be dissuaded.

"Bilius," Ron sighed. "Horrible, isn't it?"

"I like it," Hermione said, and Ron quirked a smile.

"So... Ronald Bilius Weasley."

"Hermione Jean Granger."

"Ronald Bilius Weasley."

"Hermione Jean Granger."

Her name had never sounded so beautiful before. What she didn't find out until much later in life was that Ron, too, had never liked his name more than when it came out of her mouth.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because sometimes, to fall asleep, all you need is your best friend. Your boyfriend. Your fiancee. Your wife. Your soul mate. A collection of 30 moments in a lifetime during which Ron and Hermione just couldn't fall asleep.

**Chapter Eight  
** _Fourth Year: 1995_

He felt numb. Numb with fear, numb with sadness, numb with the pain he would not let himself feel. How could he let himself feel that? How could he when he knew he needed to be strong for everyone around him? Had Ron had it his way, he would have already uprooted every single one of the tables in the Gryffindor common room and thrown them haphazardly around. They weren't very heavy, to be honest. But he couldn't, because people needed him. Hermione needed him. And she wasn't just a person, she was another whole category of her own, something much more delicate but also something a little more important than just 'people'. No one else had been planted in that category before, and Ron had only just realized what he needed to label it. Granted, he'd loathed himself when he'd realized he fancied her. Because he'd let Viktor Krum (stupid, famous Viktor Krum!) get to her first, and he thought he might hold that over his own head for the rest of his life. If he didn't get to be with Hermione, that is. If he did, he'd probably forget about it at one point. But for the moment, it was fresh in his mind, and it still stung. A lot.

Ron swore to himself. How could he possibly be thinking about Hermione at a time like this? Cedric Diggory was dead. Voldemort was back. And Hermione needed him not to think about romance, but to be a friend to her. She was there, staring at the wall, completely confused as to what was going on and trying so, so hard not to cry. Even she, a Muggleborn, had heard so much about the first war. Even she knew what it meant. She was scared, and rightly so. Ron was scared too, but he'd never let on. He couldn't get the image of Cedric Diggory, dead, out of his mind. It was a horrible, evil, warped image, something he'd honestly never wanted to see again, but it seemed to be branded into the back of his eyelids. Every time he closed his eyes, there Cedric was, dead on the ground. And there his father was, sobbing over his body. Diggory's father's sobs were possibly the most heartbreaking thing Ron had ever heard in his entire life. He could hear Cho Chang's girlish cry, high pitched against the wails of Amos Diggory. He couldn't understand how the world could be so cruel to people, and it scared him. In one night, Mr. Diggory had lost everything. He'd lost his child. It frightened Ron into oblivion. How could anyone possibly deal with that pain? He couldn't imagine how he'd feel if, for example, he was in Cho's place, and he was looking at Hermione's body dead on the ground. He'd only just realized the fact that he fancied her. How could he loose her so soon? It took him a few seconds to remember that it wasn't her who was dead, because fear began clawing at his insides just at the thought. Then again, you never knew. That was just how cruel to world was. Ron looked over at Hermione, whose face was pale. She seemed to be thinking about roughly the same things he was. They both needed to get out of there, away from the crying girls and the mourning people. The common room was far too crowded for the conversation he knew he and Hermione had to have. Quietly, he stood up and offered his hand to her. Hermione frowned, knowing instantly what he wanted.

"It's after hours," she said, glancing at the midnight sky outside the windows.

"Do you honestly think the teachers will care if we go for a little walk?" he asked, voice hoarse from lack of talking. The honest answer was yes, but Hermione decided to throw caution to the wind and take his hand. They strode to the portrait hole together, and Hermione noticed with a start that their hands were still tightly entwined. She felt warmth spread through her body as she felt happiness for the first time since seeing Cedric Diggory's body. It was gone in a flash, but it had been there, and it suddenly gave Hermione initiative to keep holding on. Initiative that she needed, because she knew that her whole world was going to fall apart.

"Where are we going?" she asked Ron, and he said,

"Somewhere the other kids in the school can't hear us, really."

In any other situation, those words would have sent shivers down her spine, but just then she couldn't think about those words out of context and knew that wasn't what he meant. Ron, on the other hand, turned bright red, but bravely trudged on, still clutching Hermione's hand. He passed many classrooms until he finally found one that he considered far enough from the common room. He quietly led Hermione inside. Immediately, she sat at one of the desks. On the other hand, Ron sat  _on_  one of the desks. For a second, they just stared at each other, until suddenly Hermione hid her head in her hands. Ron could see her back shaking, and it brought a few tears to his own eyes. He was still numb, but seeing her wear her heart on her sleeve was thawing him a little bit, and he didn't think he'd ever liked her more than in that moment. That moment, when she was able to cry without making excuses, when she let him blindly lead her into the dark, when she trusted him enough to weep in front of him, because he knew she wouldn't collapse in front of just anyone. The whole night, she'd been forcing herself to stay strong just for Harry.

"Hermione," he croaked, and she lifted her head, tears still running down her cheeks. He hadn't really wanted to say anything, he'd just wanted to see her face, a constant that made him comfortable and happy and temporarily made him forget his fear. Unable to think of anything else to do, he reached over and tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear, unwillingly letting go of the strand once it was in its place. In the years to come, it would become apparent to Hermione that Ron had the ability to be extraordinarily tender towards her whenever there was a crisis, and the only times he would ever grasp her hand, touch her hair, or hold her was when she was crying. While she found it a little upsetting that Ron waited to show affection until something devastating happened, it also proved something to her. He didn't run away when times were hard. And if he did have to vanish for a while, he'd always come back stronger and better than before.

"Ron, what's going to happen?" she whispered, and he sighed heavily.

"Same thing that happened before, I expect," he admitted. "Voldemort will grow stronger. The ministry and Hogwarts will somehow get taken over by Death Eaters. No one will know whom to trust, and people will start checking for... I don't know... jam preferences or something stupid like that whenever you have to open the door. Everyone's going to be afraid, having nightmares, and people are going to die and-"

"Stop!" Hermione shrieked, panic on her face. "STOP, RON!"

Ron stopped.

"Sorry," he said quietly as she succumbed to more tears.

"Why do people have to die?" Hermione asked desperately. "I don't understand, Ron! I don't understand this, I can't bear to think about it. This is the first time since I've come to Hogwarts that I've just wanted to go _home_."

Now it was Ron's turn to be alarmed.

"What are you talking about? You're not leaving, are you?" he asked quickly.

Hermione bit her lip, and he looked away hastily.

"I don't know," she told him slowly. "I don't want to stay right now..."

"You have to stay," he said hurriedly. "You have to!"

She turned to look at him, desolation and confusion in her beautiful brown eyes. He tried to imagine what his life would be like without seeing those eyes everyday and found it too impossible to even think about. He would _not_  let her leave.

"Why?"

And there was only one answer, he knew, that would be sufficient, and he didn't want to say it but he absolutely had to because life without her was too scary and empty to imagine.

"I need you."

Her eyes went wide with shock, and she stared at him as though she'd never seen him in that light before.

"What are you saying?"

He backtracked quickly, not exactly ready to tell her precisely what he'd meant.

"I mean, I suppose Harry needs you too, and Ginny as well, but I... you're one of my best friends and... Hogwarts without you…just... god, Hermione," he finished lamely, but she seemed to understand what he was saying, because a watery smile crossed her face as she stared at him.

"You too, Ron," she murmured, and he let out a shaky laugh, as if something she had just told him was relieving.

"Good," he said. Then he paused, "So you're not going to run away?"

"No," Hermione said, shaking her head. "If you need me to stay, I can." She paused, then smiled sheepishly at him. "I don't really think I would have been able to leave anyway, not when everyone needs me to much, but it was nice to hear you say that you did, so I won't complain."

Ron laughed, and then he sighed.

"It's not fair."

"What's not fair?"

"That you only got to be in this world for four years before it fell apart. I have a feeling our Hogwarts experience will be less than normal because of this, and you don't deserve to have such a warped time here."

Hermione shrugged.

"Neither do you."

"Yeah, but I've lived in the wizarding world all my life. It's different."

"I suppose," Hermione agreed. "To some extent, I suppose it is a little different, but this is still your time at Hogwarts, and it's getting just as wrecked as mine is."

"What did we do to deserve this, exactly?"

"We befriended Harry Potter."

"Right."

"Yeah."

There was another silence, but this time it wasn't strange like their others had been. It was easier to pour your heart out in situations like these, when you were absolutely forced to do it, with no other choice. And it was even better when the other person had said exactly what you needed them to say in response. They needed each other. That much was true, although neither Ron nor Hermione was exactly sure how much. This would be the root of many problems in the years to come, although they didn't know it yet.

"We should go," Ron muttered. Hermione nodded resolutely and stood up. She seemed reluctant to leave their temporary safe haven, reluctant to go back to a world where they had to face the reality of a war that had just begun. But she was tired, Ron knew. He was too.

"I'll miss you this summer," she told him quietly. "I'm going to be thinking too much, and there will be no you to tell me not to."

"Well then you'll just have to come visit for a lengthy amount of time so I can tell you to quit thinking and get your nose out of your book," he said sensibly.

"Sounds good," Hermione said, her voice breaking. Because she didn't know if she'd be able to do that. Neither of them knew what changes their world was going to undergo that summer, and it was a frightening thought. Everything was going to change. That same thought seemed to strike the both of them simultaneously.

"It's hard to believe that these past four years have been the  _easy_  ones," Hermione groaned. "How can life get any harder?"

 _Just you wait,_ Ron wanted to say, but he didn't.

"I- er - I need to go back," he said quickly. "I forgot something."

"Oh," Hermione said. "Alright. Do you want me to-?"

"No, that's okay," Ron said quickly.

He turned around and let his lanky legs lead him to the dark classroom, where he shut the door and sat back on the teacher's desk. It was only then that he let himself cry, loud sobs that shook his body and probably could have woken up the whole castle. He was so, so scared, and he couldn't be numb anymore. He was crying so hard, he didn't even notice her slip into the classroom and onto the desk. He didn't notice until he felt her wrap her arms around him, place her chin on his shoulder, and cry with him. And although he didn't want her to see him so weak and sad, he let her stay.

He could never ask her to leave.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because sometimes, to fall asleep, all you need is your best friend. Your boyfriend. Your fiancee. Your wife. Your soul mate. A collection of 30 moments in a lifetime during which Ron and Hermione just couldn't fall asleep.

**Chapter Nine  
** _Summer Before Fifth Year: 1995_

If there was one word Ron would use to describe Number 12, Grimmauld Place, it was creepy. If there were two words he could use, it was bloody creepy. And after you got to three words... well, you could use your imagination. He hated practically everything about it. He hated the fact that he was forced to live there when it wasn't even his home. He hated the fact that he had to clean it all day, everyday. He hated the dark corners and the endless amounts of rooms, each more dingy than the last. He hated the dark artifacts spread everywhere. He hated the heads of the House Elves on the wall. And he loathed what the House Elves on the wall did to Hermione. Ginny had just walked by them the first time she saw them, a look of surprise showing up fleetingly on her face before she'd put a hard mask over it and continued her way up the steps. But Hermione's reaction was far more dramatic.

She bounded into the house in high spirits, hugging Ginny tightly before turning to Ron. It had been a little awkward, as her first instinct was obviously to throw her arms around him, but then she'd stopped herself and stared at him, biting her lip, for quite a few seconds. Finally, she'd tackled him into a hug anyways, and he couldn't help but love the feeling of her petite body smashed strangely against his lanky frame. He felt so happy to have her in his arms. Here she was, alive and well and real and he loved it. His arms circled around her, pulling her close for a brief second, sniffing her hair. As he did so, his hand accidentally brushed against the back clasp of her bra, causing both of them to startle and jump away from each other. Ignoring Mrs. Weasley's soft smile and Ginny's exasperated huff, Ron looked down at Hermione and said,

"Hey."

"Hi," she replied, beaming up at him, her cheeks still a little pink.

"You're rooming with me, Hermione," Ginny said happily, and Hermione reached down to get her bag.

"Ron!" Mrs. Weasley said, shooting a glare at him. Ron scratched his head at her before comprehension lit up his eyes, and he reached down and took Hermione's suitcase from her.

"Want me to carry that up for you?" he asked, tips of his ears glowing pink.

"Mmmm, yes please," Hermione said, smiling encouragingly at him while her heart thumped in her chest. Ron's heart, too, was pounding from both the smell of her hair and the feel of her clasp under his fingers, and suddenly he felt that it was nice to have something to grip his fingers around so hard his knuckles turned white.

_Quit thinking about her like that, will you? It's never going to happen, and, face it, you don't want it to happen here. Not with so many places people could walk in on you... oh, merlin, they can do that at Hogwarts too. But there it's students, not family... never mind that, because it's not going to happen anyways. She doesn't like you like that!_

"Ron, march to it," Ginny said, pulling him out of his internal argument and back into Grimmauld Place. He let Ginny go up the stairs, then Hermione, and he followed behind both of them. Suddenly, Hermione stopped, and he realized it was a good thing that he had been behind her, because she swayed on the spot and he was forced to place his hands on her back to keep her from falling down the stairs.

"What is this?" Hermione asked in a deadly whisper.

"Er-" Ron stuttered. Ginny took the lead.

"They're House Elves, Hermione. It's sort of a tradition in Sirius's family..."

Hermione's mouth gaped and tears swam into her eyes.

"Oh, please don't cry," Ron said desperately. He didn't think he'd ever be able to sufficiently comfort her, and he couldn't bear the idea of tears in her eyes.

"It's  _terrible_ ," Hermione whispered, and Ron grasped her elbow, pushing her up the stairs and past the Elves. He kept his hold on her as Ginny led them to the room they'd be sharing, Hermione's eyes still teary. Ron let go to set the suitcase on her bed and turned to watch her collapse next to it. He sat down next to her, unsure what to do but sit there and watch her. He couldn't comfort her with Ginny there, not without his sister realizing he fancied Hermione. Besides, he had already reached the limit of how much he was allowed to touch her in one day. The bra clasp thing had been quite enough, he didn't need to embarrass himself any further.

"I've tried to get them off the wall, I swear," he told her. And it was true. The first thing he'd done when he saw them was think about spew and Dobby and all the wonderful elves down at the Hogwarts kitchens. Since then, he'd been trying to get them down using all the spells he knew, but none of them worked. "They've got permanent sticking charms on them."

Hermione let out a little gasp of horror and brought her hand to her mouth. Ron could see nausea on her face.

"I know it's awful, but there really isn't anything we can do, Hermione. We're here for the rest of the summer, and so are they. Or, actually, they're here for a bit longer," she amended. Ron shot her a glare.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. Hermione's head snapped around to look at him, eyes still teary. They searched his face, and some of the nausea seemed to leave her expression as she did so.

"Why? It's not like you put them there."

"Er- because you're upset and I hate that."

"Oh," Hermione said, eyebrows raising. Ginny snorted.

"You know, because you're my best friend and all that," Ron said hurriedly.

"Right," Hermione said, but there was a little smile on her face, as though after four years it was still nice to have it reaffirmed. Four years. Merlin, he'd known her for four years. "So, what's it like here? Besides the obvious downtrodden atmosphere that the unconventional decorum gives it," she added, shivering.

"It's... alright," Ginny said cautiously.

"I think you pretty much hit the nail on the head with the word downtrodden."

"Everyone's scared," Ginny admitted.

"We have to clean a lot!"

"The order meetings are relatively hushed up, they don't tell us anything."

"Day and night, twenty-four/seven!"

"There are tons and tons of spiders in this house."

"The extendable ears aren't really working."

"We aren't allowed to tell Harry anything either."

"I'm talking about massive spiders that lurk in corners-"

"Dumbledore's orders, you know-"

"I swear to merlin one actually tried to kill me, Hermione, can you believe that?"

"Fred and George are absolutely livid, they hate not being in the thick of things, you know that. They keep on hounding her to let them into the meetings."

"So I took a teapot and I brought my wrath down upon the head of the spider-"

"Ticks mum off, really, seeing as she's already on edge because of Percy."

"And then, if you'll believe it, the spider just sat there twitching for about ten minutes until I was kind enough to put it out of its misery."

"I simply can't believe he would actually say those things to dad! What kind of son is he? Scratch that. What kind of person is he?"

"Whenever a spider sees me now, it scuttles away in fear, because I think they all saw me kill the other one."

"Dad has always been a man who loves what he does, and he does it for the joy of it, not the money."

"There aren't any in my room, actually, I'm pretty sure they all got out while they could."

"We, as his family, have always accepted that! So it was such a shock when Percy started saying those things."

"Fred and George say they saw one about the size of a goblin's head, but I don't believe them. Aragog's decedents are tucked safely in the forest, wreaking havoc on whoever may be unfortunate enough to cross their paths."

"Fred and George actually went as far as to tell him to shove his wand up his-"

"Do you think we'd somehow be able to trick Malfoy into going there and getting eaten this year? Blimey, that would be bloody brilliant!"

"-where it does belong, to be quite honest with you."

"Wouldn't it, Hermione?"

"Don't you agree, Hermione?"

She stood there staring at the two of them for a moment, mouth slightly agape.

"Um... wow," she said, trying to comprehend all of this. Quickly, her brain worked to adjust to the speed of the conversation, trying to organize the information in her head. "Okay. Cleaning sounds unfortunate, Ron, too bad about the meetings, Ginny, good job with the spiders, Ron, Sorry about Percy, Ginny, don't swear, Ron." She shook her head as though trying to clear it. "That do it, you two?"

"Yep," Ginny and Ron said simultaneously.

Hermione laughed.

"Great."

"Want to play chess, Mione?" Ron asked.

Ginny and Hermione's grins faded as they stared at him, shocked.

"What did you just call her?" Ginny asked eagerly.

"Hermione..." Ron said slowly, not comprehending what had happened.

"No," Hermione said, finding her voice. "You called me Mione."

There was palpable tension in the air as both Ron and Hermione turned bright red and turned away from each other. Ginny stood there open mouthed before she stood up and wordlessly walked to the door. They heard her burst into laughter after it had slammed shut behind her. Ron shook his head.

"So do you want to?" Ron inquired again after he'd cleared his throat.

"Er- what?" Hermione said, startled. She'd just been swept up in a fantasy that involved Ron calling her Mione quite a lot.

"Do you want to play chess?" Ron asked for the third time, articulating each word very carefully.

"Oh!" Hermione said. "Yes, alright."

"Brilliant," Ron grinned, grabbing his chessboard.

An hour and a half later, she had lost. Ginny had come in sometime during the game, back from telling her mum about Ron's little blunder. She had been rooting for Hermione, but was unfortunately there to see most of the game. Ron was smirking happily, basking in the warmth of his win. And Hermione was ticked off. She was already so stressed out about Harry, and now she had the added on worry about the fact that she literally wanted to pounce on Ron and snog him senseless. It was causing unadulterated anger to surge through her, and she stood up in a bad temper and shouted,

"You cheated!"

Ron's smile vanished at once.

"I did not!" he said. "You're just rubbish at chess."

"I am not!" Hermione retaliated. "You... you cheat."

"How would I possibly cheat?" Ron roared, not happy with her less than graceful fail. It didn't really help at all that her feet and legs had accidentally brushed up against his own several times during the game.

"I don't know," Hermione said scathingly, "but I don't want to be in the same room as a cheater."

She strode over to the door and walked out, but was quickly followed by both Ron and Ginny.

"See, you can't even come up with a way for me to cheat, and you're supposed to be the smartest witch of her age!"

"Supposed to be?" Hermione shrieked.

"SHUT IT!" Ginny bellowed suddenly.

They both stopped bickering and turned to look at her, completely disconcerted by this unprecedented turn of events. Usually Harry just let them have it out, sometimes leaving when it got to be too much. He never actually interfered. Their discombobulation ended up being their defeat. Ginny, sick of the bickering and the sexual tension, unceremoniously grabbed both their arms and, before they could even comprehend what was going on, shoved them both into a closet. Then she slammed the door behind them. They heard her locking it from the other side.

For a second, Ron and Hermione just stared into the darkness, still shocked. Then Ron said,

"Well. Why haven't you unlocked it?"

He could almost feel Hermione's defeat in the darkness.

"I don't have my wand." Silence. "Do you have yours?"

"No," Ron said, shaking his head. More silence. "Think there's a light?"

"You're the tall one, you tell me," she said, as it hadn't escaped her notice how tall he was in that small room. It made her shiver a little bit.

Ron groped around on the sealing for a few seconds before saying,

"Nope," and bringing his hand back down. He felt it brush up against something soft in the darkness and, from the sharp breath Hermione sucked in, had an idea what it was. It was a good thing it was dark, because he turned bright red.

Right. Well. Four years of friendship- how had his hand never accidentally brushed up against her breast before? It was actually a little shocking. And awkward. So, so awkward. And also bloody brilliant. Merlin's pants, he'd touched her boob!

Hermione coughed, bringing Ron's thoughts away from the gutter and back into the dark closet. Which, to be honest, wasn't much better.

"How long do you think we'll be in here?" she asked.

"Until you both say what you need to say," said Ginny's voice from outside the closet. Ron slammed his fists against the door.

"GINNY! GINNY, YOU LET US OUT RIGHT NOW!"

"I'm going downstairs so you can talk. I'll be checking up on you repeatedly throughout the evening."

"GINNY!" Ron screamed in spite of the steps they could hear going down a set of stairs. "GINNY, WHAT THE HELL ARE WE SUPPOSED TO DO IN A DARK CLOSET?"

"Well," came a voice, and Ron and Hermione both groaned when they realized it was Fred speaking. "I don't know about you, but I find closets to be excellent places to bring girls."

"Yeah," agreed George. "Although normally what I'd plan on doing in there would require silencing charms."

"Huh. They _are_  in a pickle, aren't they?"

"Here, we'll cast the silencing charms for you. Ginny will lift them when she comes to check on you. We'll tell her to be back in five minutes."

"Ten, tops."

There was the horrid sound of the twins snickering during which Ron contemplated telling Hermione that he would definitely take longer than ten minutes, before suddenly the snickering was gone. Silencing charms had obviously been cast.

"Bloody hell," Ron moaned, trying to think about his Auntie Murial.

"Oh my," Hermione said faintly.

"Are you alright?" Ron asked immediately.

"Yes, I'm fine," Hermione said softly. She paused before saying, "We should- er- sit down. We're probably going to be here for a while."

The two of them sat, Hermione miraculously avoiding Ron's lap.

"This ought to teach us not to bicker," he joked half-heartedly.

"I know," Hermione agreed. "Ron, I know you didn't cheat. I'm sorry I said those things to you."

"Thanks," he said, and she heard him scratch his head awkwardly in the darkness.

"Why do why fight so much anyways?" Hermione asked desperately, searching for the answer.

"Dunno," Ron said, lying through his teeth.

And all Hermione could think was,  _Merlin's pants, he smells good._

Suddenly, she knew. It came to her as she pictured him in full fight mode. His face contorted in fury. His posture rising to its fullest height. His red hair seeming to be on fire over his angry expression. His blue eyes smoldering, deeper than usual. His passion completely focused on her. Not only was Ron sexy when they fought, it made her feel special because all his attention was on her. And it all made sense.

She couldn't say that, though. She had to save face.

"Neither do I," she said.

"Do you think we'll ever find out?" Ron asked after a moment, playing his part.

Hermione turned to him, her hand accidentally brushing up against his in the darkness.

"I hope so," she said honestly. "I really, _really_ hope so."


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because sometimes, to fall asleep, all you need is your best friend. Your boyfriend. Your fiancee. Your wife. Your soul mate. A collection of 30 moments in a lifetime during which Ron and Hermione just couldn't fall asleep.

**Chapter Ten  
** _Fifth Year: 1996_

It was dark, but for some reason Hermione could still see Ron's face and body. He was almost taller than the whole hospital bed, which made her laugh. He'd grown since the last time they'd been here at the end of third year. She knew that, of course. But she'd never realized exactly how much he'd grown. It actually amazed her a little bit, because it had only been two years. She felt like she hadn't grown at all. Maybe that was because Ron dwarfed her so much. Every time Hermione thought she had grown over the summer, she came back to school and Ron towered over her. It was a bit unfortunate, but at the same time she loved it. She had a feeling that if he ever hugged her, their bodies would fit perfectly together. And he'd be able to rest his chin on her forehead while his arms circled around her back, and then suddenly she'd tilt her head up and he'd lean down and kiss her and tell her that he'd never fancied anyone more, nor would he ever fancy anyone more. Then he'd lift her up in his strong arms (arms made possible by Quidditch- she knew that sport was good for something) and carry her off into the sunset where they'd spend the rest of their lives in happy oblivion, becoming the parents of several ginger haired, blue eyed children, Crookshanks overseeing the whole thing and somehow becoming best pals with Ron. It would be so romantic.

A loud snore interrupted Hermione from her fantasies, and she almost laughed. Romance? This was Ron Weasley she'd fallen for, not some normal boy. Ron probably didn't have a romantic bone in his body. Well, maybe he did. Sometimes she saw little flashes of things... but he was so young, only sixteen, and she thought it would take quite a while for the romance to kick in even if he possessed some of it. Right now, he was simply a good-looking teenage boy that made Hermione laugh and gave her butterflies. Honestly, whenever she saw him she felt like she'd just eaten one of the toad-shaped Honeydukes candies that hopped around in your stomach after you ate it. No, he wasn't romantic yet. He was a teenager who snored and loved chess and was always fiercely loyal. Best of all, he'd proved that this was what she needed from him. All of the things he did and the way he acted helped Hermione make herself into someone she wanted to be. He'd accidentally and unknowingly made her fancy him, and she adored him for it. He hadn't used pick up lines, he probably didn't even like her back. He was just a great person who she admired and cared about. She loved everything about him. Including his tactlessness. Including his snores.

What would she have done without him? Even as she thought it, Hermione's mind zoomed back to the moment where she'd woken up and seen Ron lying in the bed next to her. She remembered seeing his body and leaping up, emitting a little squeak into the air as the worst thoughts took over her head. _He can't be dead, he isn't dead, please don't be dead, Ron, I need you!_  First, she made sure he was breathing. Then, nearly crying in relief, Hermione rounded on the nearest person and demanded to know what had happened to him. Somehow, as Madam Pomfery told the story, Hermione's hand found Ron's, and she clutched it tightly. She wanted to find the Death Eater that had put the hex on Ron and she wanted to kill him. She wanted to find those brains and destroy them. She wanted to kiss every single one of the scars he'd procured on his arm. But, of course, she couldn't do any of that. It was Ron. If he woke up and found her holding his hand, it would probably make him turn bright red and leave him stuttering for hours. If he woke up and found her lips on any part of his body- even if it was his arm- he'd probably just take one look and pass out again. And then Madam Pomfery would get mad. Better just to avoid it all.

She was also quite a coward, and the idea of kissing Ron in any way was nerve wracking. He hadn't been able to focus on anything for at least a half an hour the last time she'd gotten the nerve up to kiss him on the cheek. They were sixteen, and while the other people in their year were starting relationships, Hermione had a feeling that if anything ever were to happen between her and Ron, it would be unbearably slow. Just little inches moving forward until they hit some sort of bump that catapulted them into another whole realm. She couldn't imagine herself just coming out and telling Ron she had a crush on him, and she couldn't picture him saying the same things to her, either. She was pretty sure he didn't even like her. The only inclination she'd ever gotten from him was when they bickered. When they fought like that, it was the most enthralling thing it the world. She absolutely thrived on it. But, of course, not the type of fighting that made them unfriendly towards each other for weeks. And not the kind of fighting that they'd just done, with wands and spells and people getting hurt.

With Ron getting hurt.

She could picture it so clearly in her head it was almost frightening. Ron getting hit with the hex. Ron giggling like a schoolgirl. Ron summoning the brains, and the brains wrapping their tentacles around him. Ginny panicking. Harry and Neville trying to figure out how to release the brains. Her own unconscious body just lying there. Hermione wondered if Ron had noticed she was knocked out. Should she be annoyed that he hadn't even realized she was hurt? On further contemplation (including a brief overview of everything she knew about the hex), she decided that it probably wasn't Ron's fault that he hadn't noticed the fact that she was knocked out. She'd forgive him just that once. Smiling to herself, Hermione rolled over in her bed, turning to look at her best friend. He was sweating, and it looked a little like he as having a nightmare. He was twitching in his sleep, hands and eyebrows moving often. Hermione watched carefully, taking in his expression and the fear his face was communicating even when his eyes were closed. It wasn't the same, though. Merlin, she loved his eyes.

She tried to imagine what would have happened if she had been awake when the brains had strangled Ron. She probably would have gone into full panic mode, henceforth rendering herself completely useless. She would have been a wreck. The idea of Ron dying before she could tell him she fancied him was unbearably horrible, like getting a anything below one-hundred percent on an exam, or getting extra credit problems wrong. No, Hermione suddenly realized. It was worse than that. How could she compare Ron to schoolwork? For the first time in her life, she'd found two friends that meant more to her than her studies, and one who she fancied a whole lot. She couldn't compare her feelings for Ron to schoolwork. He meant so much more than that. And that was what was scary about him, wasn't it? Schoolwork was predictable. There was a way to guarantee that you got it right. But Ron himself was the most unpredictable thing in her life. She could easily get her relationship with him wrong- she had almost lost him in third year. Ron could hurt her like no one else. School couldn't hurt her the way Ron could, Harry couldn't hurt her the way Ron could, Voldemort couldn't even hurt her the way Ron could. He was very quickly worming his way into her heart, and now he meant so much to her the idea of loosing him was too much to comprehend. So much that she simply didn't want to think about it, and had probably demeaned it slightly by comparing it to exams.

She'd grown up around him. In the five years she'd known him, she had shaped herself around him in some ways. She'd found the qualities within him she'd wanted to possess and she'd worked towards getting them. She'd found the qualities that were less than admirable and she'd made sure she would never act like that. He had made her who she was without knowing it. He'd taught her so many lessons without meaning to teach them. Even now, Hermione couldn't really remember who she was before Ron. She had a feeling she wouldn't like that person very much anymore. From what Ron said, she'd been quite an obnoxious little thing. He always spoke about younger Hermione with a lopsided, melancholy smile on his face, as if remembering a good friend he had lost. Which was strange, because he had never lost her. He never would lose her. Not if she had anything to say about it. If he lost her, it meant that she'd lost him, and she was never letting that happen. Not even if she was twenty-five and still had to cover up her feelings for him because he was marrying another girl. Not even then.

Hopefully, if that happened, she'd have enough common sense to stop fancying him. At that point it would probably be a little ridiculous and heartbreaking and depressing and incomprehensible. Her heart began beating faster just as she thought about it, and she suddenly had a desperate need to reassure herself that Ron was there and that she still had a chance to be with him. Trembling, Hermione reached out a hand, making to smooth back Ron's fringe.

"Miss Granger?" came a voice, and Hermione snatched her hand away from Ron's face, blushing bright red. "Miss Granger, I was wondering if you'd like to take this opportunity to take a shower. You'll be spending the night here, and you're covered in grime."

"Oh," Hermione said, now looking at Madam Pomfery. "Yes, alright."

"I'll clean your sheets while you're in there," the Matron promised, and Hermione nodded and quickly got out of bed. "And I had a House-Elf grab this nightdress for you from your room. You're going to be here for a while, I'm afraid. You and Mr. Weasley both."

"Thank you," Hermione said, taking the nightgown.

She padded over to the bathroom, her whole body aching with pain. She'd been unconscious and knocked down and her head and body hurt terribly. Quietly, she shut the door and locked it very quickly, making sure she'd done it right. Hermione felt all too aware that Ron was just a few feet over, and she was about to take a shower. It wasn't like he could get into the room or see through the walls, but it was still slightly nerve wracking. She turned on the shower, shed her clothes as fast as she could, and leaped into the shower. The water poured down on her back, relaxing and familiar. Hermione let out a sigh of relief as she felt comforted for the first time since she'd heard about Sirius being tortured. The ache that she'd felt from being blasted across the room was slowly starting to ebb away. Softly, she started to hum a song, standing there under the jet of water and letting the blood and sweat fall off of her body and onto the floor of the tub. And then the humming became too little, and she opened her mouth and began singing in earnest.

"On my own, pretending he's beside me..."

She belted the song with all her heart, and when she was finished with her shower she kept on singing as she dried herself, finally finishing the song as she threw her nightgown over her head. It was navy blue and one of her old ones, so it was a bit on the short side. She was glad Ron was still asleep. Smiling contently, Hermione stepped out of the bathroom, hair still sopping wet and dripping onto her shoulders. She closed the door behind her, then turned around and let out a gasp. Ron was sitting on his bed, blue eyes piercing her brown ones, lips formed into the most Malfoyish smirk she'd ever seen him do.

"Well, hello," he said, and Hermione's eyes widened.

"Um... hi," she replied, trying to feign casualness as she tromped, barefoot, over to her bed. She slipped under the covers and turned to stare at him for a moment before saying, "Well, goodnight, then," and flipping around.

"Goodnight, Hermione," Ron replied in a jovial tone of voice. She thought she'd have peace, and that she'd never hear about the incident again. But three seconds later... "I looove him, but everyday I'mmm leeaarning... aaall my liiife, I've only beeeen preteeenddinng!"

"Ron!" Hermione cried, sitting up with what could only be described as anguish on her face.

"Yes?" Ron asked innocently.

She didn't exactly know what to say to him now.

"Stop... stop it!"

"Stop what?"

"Stop teasing me!"

He raised his eyebrows.

"How am I teasing you? You're a wonderful singer, Hermione."

"Oh, shut up," she moaned, throwing her pillow at him.

A shocked expression crossed his face as the pillow hit his nose. He threw it right back at her, seeming eager to get it away from himself. He blinked a few times to clear his head, then adopted the superior tone again.

"No, really, you are. You were only a tad bit off key, you know-"

"Ron!" Hermione said shrilly.

"Oh, come on!" he said, exasperated. "You can't honestly expect me not to make fun of you for this!"

"Can we just... never talk about this again?" she begged, and his smile faltered.

"Fine," he sighed, and she shot him a relieved smile before turning away from him again. Her face turned red as she thought about what had just happened. If she'd ever had a chance with Ron, she'd certainly just ruined it by being a total and complete idiot.

Little did she know, Ron had loved every moment of Hermione's performance. Little did she know that it made him fancy her even more. Little did she know that she'd spend years of her life waking him up in the morning by singing in the shower, and he'd never get tired of that alarm clock.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because sometimes, to fall asleep, all you need is your best friend. Your boyfriend. Your fiancee. Your wife. Your soul mate. A collection of 30 moments in a lifetime during which Ron and Hermione just couldn't fall asleep.

**Chapter Eleven**

_Summer Before Sixth Year: 1996_

It was hot, so unbearably hot that Hermione wanted to chop all of her hair off and watch as the bushy brown fell to the ground. She would have, too, if she hadn't known how awful her hair looked so short. It puffed up like a loofah, and she was definitely never going to let Ron see her with hair like that. Besides, she was nearly seventeen years old. She didn't want to look like a sponge for anyone, much less Ron. And so she'd just have to stick with putting her hair in messy buns and ponytails, then ask Ginny to go swimming again the next day. For now, she'd just tangle herself in the sheets and try, try,  _try_  to fall asleep. Because if she didn't get to sleep soon, she was probably going to go mad. The heat was hell, and Hermione didn't know how Ginny dealt with it. Ginny, who snored almost as loud as her brother, was already asleep. Hermione had gotten used to the snores while she had been in the hospital wing sleeping right next to Ron. That wasn't the issue. It was the goddamn heat. Groaning to herself, she turned over in her cot, wondering if she should go home and get a fan for Ginny's room. It wouldn't work, actually. The Weasleys didn't have electricity. They could do everything by magic. Besides, there was another major flaw in the plan: Hermione didn't want to go home.

There was something about the Burrow that literally sent shivers up Hermione's spine. Maybe it was the fact that it was so much different than her own home. Maybe it was the fact that everyone there was warm and loving and obviously cared about her. Maybe it was the delicious meals and humble structure. Or maybe it was the fact that Ron had grown up there, and whenever she was there he was there too. If Hermione had to take a bet, it would be on the latter. She could just imagine little Ron running around the place, chasing after Ginny or being chased by Fred and George. She could imagine him with the teddy bear he'd described in second year, loving it so much before it was turned into a spider by his brothers. She could imagine that acid pop burning through his tongue and him trying to make an unbreakable vow with Fred. Of course, it wasn't like she'd ever seen a baby picture of Ron. She had to imagine what he had looked like when he was younger, because all of the Weasleys' photos had been stored away so that they wouldn't be damaged. The only thing in a picture frame in the Weasley house was the newspaper article that held a picture of all of them from when they'd gone to Egypt. Hermione, while disappointed about this, thought it was rather wise. If she were Mrs. Weasley and had seven children, she would have tucked everything out of harms way as well. Even Mr. Weasley was prone to accidents on the rare occasion. He did love his Muggle stuff.

Hermione loved the way Mr. Weasley had her sit next to him at dinner and explain simple things like stoves and microwaves and CDs. It was so fascinating for him and so amusing for her. She loved how Ron would sit next to her and watch her and Mr. Weasley with an expression that could only be described as endearment written all over his face. He loved it when she bonded with his father. She just wished she knew why. Although she had a little idea. It had all started when Ron had seen her in her bathing suit for the first time the day that she'd come to the Burrow. She had been feeling so self-conscious, walking down to the lake alongside Ginny with a slip pulled over her tankini. Of course, when she'd seen him with his shirt off it had been an absolutely monumental occasion for her. He was Ron Weasley, and his chest wasn't horribly hideous, and this just served to prove to Hermione that he was the perfect man for her. Not that she would have fancied him any less if he'd had an ugly chest... or at least, she didn't think so. The beautiful thing about Ron was that he wasn't the most handsome man in the world, but he was gorgeous to her. Hermione so badly wanted to find someone who thought she was as unconditionally amazing as she thought Ron was. And when she'd pulled her cover-up off and dived into the water and then emerged, the look on Ron's face had told her that she just might have found that person.

A few weeks ago, she had thought that the idea of Ron Weasley having feelings for her was not only absurd, but impossible. It was simply too good to be conceivable- when had Hermione ever gotten that lucky in her life? She'd been blessed with brains, not looks, and she had never before had reason to regret that. Even as she came to terms with the fact that Ron probably didn't fancy her, she still didn't regret it. She was supposedly the smartest witch of her age, and she wouldn't trade it for anything. Not then, anyways. But after Ron had spent the better part of two hours goggling Hermione in her bathing suit, a little bit of hope was starting to blossom inside of her. After all, maybe realizing the fact that she had breasts would make him like her. Maybe seeing that underneath her robes she wasn't horribly disfigured help him realize that she was a girl. It was making her heart soar with excitement. And that was probably why Ginny had finally been able to get Hermione to admit it out loud.

They'd been sitting in Ginny's room, chatting, and then Ginny had begun teasing Hermione and trying to get her to give it up. Finally Hermione had just told her. For the first time in her life, she'd said the words out loud. The words that she'd thought so many times but never spoken, because she knew that if she did it would further her heartbreak if a relationship with Ron never happened.

"I fancy Ron."

It had been a liberating moment, full of blushing and giggling and Ginny throwing pillows at Hermione as if this would get them even for Hermione denying it to Ginny for such a long time. Of course, that hadn't been the best part of the vacation, nor had it been the most embarrassing part. Those titles belonged to something that had happened at dinner. They'd been tucking into their delicious spaghetti dinner (Hermione doing her damnedest to be neat, while, next to her, Ron seemed to forgo all manners for his mother's cooking). He'd looked up at his mother and said something with his mouth open that sounded an awful lot like,

"Whomph mago ednd orgfe at dgin ali?"

"What?" Mrs. Weasley asked, nonplussed. "Ronald Weasley, I have no idea what you just said. Don't talk with your-"

"He said 'when are we going to see Fred and George in Diagon Alley'," Hermione filled in without even bothering to look up from her food.

There was a clatter as almost every single fork dropped onto its plate. Hermione looked up to see all of the Weasleys staring at her in shock, including Ron and excluding Ginny, who had collapsed in a fit of silent laughter.

"You can understand him when he talks with his mouth full?" Fred yelped. "Only mum can do that, and even that's only part of the time!"

Ron and Hermione both turned bright red and looked determinedly away from each other.

"Impressive," Mr. Weasley said.

They turned back to their dinner after a few more moments of gawking, and Hermione let herself look across the table before tucking back into her food. Ron caught her eye and gave her a heart-stopping grin, a grin that was full of admiration but also a fragment of shyness. She loved it.

And now Ginny had long ago fallen asleep, and Hermione was too high on life to even think about sleeping. Finally giving up on sleep, she got out of bed and padded to the door of the room. Quietly opening it, she slipped out, then hurried down the staircase into the family room. She was surprised to find a light on in there, and her last few steps were more cautious. She quickly poked her head into the room, leaving the rest of her body behind the wall. The scene she was met with made her heart melt and a smile cross her face. Ron and Mrs. Weasley were seated on the couch, rifling through a box of something, chatting and laughing.

"Hermione!" Ron said suddenly, looking up. "Hi."

"Hi," she said, allowing the rest of her body to follow her head into the room.

"Can't sleep, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked sympathetically.

"No, I'm afraid not," Hermione admitted. In a second, Mrs. Weasley had gotten up and gone into the kitchen. Ron smiled at Hermione and awkwardly patted the couch next to him. She sat and watched as Mrs. Weasley came back into view, brandishing three glasses of iced pumpkin juice. She handed Hermione one first. "Thank you," she said gratefully.

"Thanks, mum," Ron replied, sighing as the cool liquid touched his throat. "This is brilliant."

Mrs. Weasley took a sip of her own juice.

"You're welcome," she said lightly.

"So what's that?" Hermione asked, pointing to the box and hoping she wasn't asking anything too personal. To her surprise, Ron turned bright red.

"Mum, don't-" he started, but Mrs. Weasley cut him off.

"We're looking at baby pictures of Ronnie," she said affectionately.

"No way!" Hermione said, discarding all appropriate conduct as she practically threw herself over Ron to see the pictures in the box. He made a high-pitched squeaky noise in the back of his throat, causing Hermione to realize that he now had a perfect view down her shirt, and she quickly pulled back, clearing her throat. "Can- can I see some?"

"NO!" Ron shouted instantly, but Mrs. Weasley beamed at her and took out a picture.

"This is Ron the day he was born. He was so red, wasn't he?"

"Yes!" Hermione chuckled. Ron moaned and buried his head in his hands. Absently, Hermione patted him quickly on the back before snatching her hand away.

"And this is Ron the first time he crawled. This is Ron being held by Bill, and Charlie, and Percy, and Arthur. And this is Ron eating his first bite of cake... and this is him eating his first chocolate frog... and this is him chasing after one of the chickens... this is him when he walked for the first time... this is him at his first degnoming... this is him laughing, we can't remember what it's from... this is him holding baby Ginny... this is him in his first pair of robes... this is him listening to a cannons game... this is him riding his first broom, oooh, Ronnie, look how adorable you were!" Ron looked like he wanted to sink into the ground and stay there forever. Hermione looked like she was trying to restrain herself from grabbing him and kissing him. "Oh, look!" Mrs. Weasley screeched, pulling a picture out of the box. "Ron, it's your first day of Hogwarts! The day you and Harry and Hermione met. Oh, look, you've got dirt on your nose. See? See?"

She turned around to look at Ron and Hermione, but saw that they were simply sitting next to each other on the couch staring at each other, their mouths open very slightly and their eyes both a little darker than usual.

"Uh huh," said Ron absently, and Hermione gave a slow nod that had nothing to do with anything that Mrs. Weasley was saying.

"Er... goodnight you two," Mrs. Weasley said quickly, and then she sprung up from the couch and left the room.

Ron and Hermione didn't seem to be aware of anything but each other. They just sat there staring at each other, until suddenly the dust from the pictures became too much and Hermione let out the tiniest of sneezes.

"Bless you!" Ron said instantly, and this was immediately followed by a soft,

"Thank you!"

More silence. Now neither of them would dare look at the other.

"Sorry about that," Ron said, eyes on his rather large, sock covered foot.

"No, it was great," Hermione said a little to quickly. "You... you were a cute kid."

"Seriously?" Ron asked, and Hermione's heart skipped a beat at the hopefulness in his voice. "Well, someday I'm going to see your baby pictures."

"That's simply not happening," Hermione told him. She knew why she'd sat through Ron's baby pictures, and it definitely wasn't because her feelings for him were platonic in any way. So if Ron sat through her baby pictures it would mean...? "I was a hideous child."

"No you weren't," Ron said without thinking.

"Excuse me?" Hermione asked, and he flushed red.

"You could never be hideous."

"And why not?" Hermione asked, now looking a little amused.

"Because you're... oh, blimey, don't make me say it, Hermione!" Ron said desperately, disbelieving of the fact that he had talked himself into this corner.

"What?" Hermione demanded.

"You're beautiful, okay?" Ron spat at her, and then he catapulted himself off of the couch and up the stairs.

 _Oh God_ , Hermione thought, curling her legs up to her chest and staring after him, _I'm in trouble, aren't I?_


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because sometimes, to fall asleep, all you need is your best friend. Your boyfriend. Your fiancee. Your wife. Your soul mate. A collection of 30 moments in a lifetime during which Ron and Hermione just couldn't fall asleep.

**Chapter Twelve**

_Sixth Year: 1996_

He had smelled her. He had smelled her in the potion, and he didn't know what to do about it, because it was so colossal it seemed to Ron that it was unmanageable. How the  _hell_  had he smelled her? What did that mean? He'd smelled his mum's sausage breakfast, the scent of a brand-new Quaffle, and something of Hermione's. He thought it was probably her hair and her skin combined to make that one overwhelming scent that overpowered his senses every single day. It was scary, though, wasn't it? Did that mean he loved her? It  _was_  a love potion, after all, and it was supposed to smell of his three favorite scents in the world. He knew he fancied Hermione, he'd come to terms with that in fourth year. But the fact that she was one of his top three favorite things in the world was a rude awakening. It meant that his feelings for her were a lot more than he'd thought they were, and it also meant that he'd have to reexamine his whole strategy because of it. Until that day, Ron's strategy had simply been to ignore his feelings for her, brood about the fact that she probably wasn't interested, and state over and over in his head that it should be illegal to like someone who didn't like you back. After all, what was the point of people getting hurt that way? But now he knew he couldn't just ignore it. He wasn't in any position to do that anymore. He was going to have to be proactive about it. He was going to have to try to figure out exactly whether or not there was any chance of her fancying him.

Ron Weasley wasn't a Casanova. He wasn't slick, or clever, or smooth in that category. He was simply Ron. He did what he wanted to do, and usually that wasn't exactly right, but it was who he was. And if a girl couldn't accept him for that, it was just her problem. Or, at least, that was what he thought until he realized how much he fancied her. Now he knew that he was going to have to rely on more than that. Hermione probably wouldn't like him the way he was. Which was why he needed serious help. He was going to have to watch his mouth. He was going to need to be more careful around her, more tactful. He was going to have to be kinder, probably, which was going to be weird because he and Hermione weren't kind. They were... bickery. And teasy. Were those even words? No, probably not. Merlin, he needed help. If Hermione had access to his thoughts, she'd probably be insulting his grammar. Good thing she didn't have access to his thoughts, really. The day she learned exactly how randy he was would be either the best or worst day of his life, and he wasn't sure he was ready to figure out which it was yet. All he knew was that he probably needed help. Maybe he could go to Ginny. Maybe she could help him become better at all the romance crap. Maybe she could tell him exactly what to do, what to say, to get Hermione to admit she liked him. There was no way Ron was going to tell her he liked her. That would be scary as hell and embarrassing to boot. He embarrassed himself enough accidentally, but doing it on purpose was inconceivable.

It was the end of the first day of school and he already felt completely topsy-turvy about Hermione. It was as if the potion had changed everything, made him see through new eyes, just as the Yule Ball had. It wasn't like Ron hadn't fancied Hermione before the Yule Ball, he just hadn't realized it until she had appeared in that gorgeous dress and made him jealous as hell. Everything had made sense after that- the awkward bumps, the nervous laughter, the fluttering stomach and the blushing cheeks. The way he felt about her suddenly had a name and a definition. Maybe it was because he'd been spending too much time with Hermione, but he felt like the word cleared up a lot, while also effectively blurring several boundaries. It seemed to Ron that the more his feelings for Hermione became evident, the more confused he got. He wondered if there would ever be a day when he wouldn't be befuddled around Hermione. He wondered if someday he might know what to do around her without bumbling and fumbling. Things between them were changing fast, yet painfully slow. The moment in the Burrow where they had spent several minutes just staring at each other was one of the most sensual moments of his young life, and he was eager for a repeat. But then again, it scared him. What if he kissed her and was bad at it? What if he was misinterpreting her signals? And then... what if they never did get together, and he'd spend the rest of his school career pining after Hermione like an idiot? What if he had to watch Viktor Krum or some other ninny carry Hermione off into the sunset?

He was so lost in thought that he didn't hear Hermione sit down next to him. He didn't even realize it until she gave the tiniest of coughs, and glanced at him smiling sheepishly when he looked at her. She was sitting with her legs crossed, while he was lying on the hearthrug. Most of the students were in bed, but Ron had been so swept up in his thoughts he hadn't gone up with Harry. He thought that there might be a part of him that knew that Hermione was still awake and wanted to be next to her somehow. There was always a little piece of him that was aware of her, no matter what was going on. Whether she was sitting next to him in class throwing her hand excitedly into the air, or she was in Arithmancy while he was in Divination, Hermione was always somewhere on his mind, and he wondered whether he crossed hers half as much as she did his.

"Hi," she said, and he smiled up at her.

"Hi."

Usually, he looked at her from such a different angle. Usually he was much, much taller than her, and he was staring down at her while she gazed up at him in a way that was endearingly familiar. It had been the same way since they were first years, although perhaps her expression had gotten less doe-eyed since then. Ron checked. No, it hadn't. If anything, it was more doe-eyed than before. He wondered why. Hermione had changed so much since he'd met her, and the large eyes mostly went away after first year. Except for when she was looking at him. The brown inside of her eyes made his stomach flip and his legs turned to jelly. Merlin's pants, she was even beautiful when he was the one looking up. Her arms were clasped firmly behind her back, pushing her chest out very slightly. Her hair was bushy and soft and for some reason he loved how wild it was, the one part of her appearance that proved to Ron that there was a wild part of Hermione that he absolutely had to find and dig out. It was almost like that bushy hair was challenging him, taunting him, telling him to find the bad-arse Hermione he'd met last year and bring that part of her out into other situations that would be more beneficial to him. Not that the DA wasn't great, because it was, but it wasn't exactly what he had in mind.

"How was your first day back?" Hermione asked Ron.

"Alright," he shrugged. "Potions was... interesting."

She laughed a little shakily, then bit her lip, staring down at him.

"Remember how your mum showed me your baby pictures?"

"Yeah," Ron said, starting to get a little excited (and also embarrassed) just at the mention of it. Was this going somewhere good?

"Well, my mum... she sent me a book of  _my_ baby pictures for... er... something. And I thought you might like to see them."

He almost had a heart attack, sitting there and staring at her. He scrambled up instantly and stared attentively at her.

"For real?" he asked, looking deliriously happy.

"Promise not to make fun!" Hermione said warningly.

"Of course."

She looked doubtful.

"Never mind," Hermione said hurriedly. "This was stupid, I don't know what I was-"

Ron instantly figured out what she was clutching behind her back, and he reached over and plucked the book from her grip. As he pulled back, grinning victoriously, he realized how close they were. He stayed there staring at her, book in hand and arm still around her shoulders, which he had reached over to get the book. Then he cleared his throat and pulled back, wondering how the hell he was going to get through the year without pushing her against the wall and snogging her senseless when they kept having little moments like these. Shaking his head, he opened the book and started searching, eyes starving for the pictures of her. His heart seemed to melt as he stared at them. She had been an adorable child. Her hair was bushier then, and her buck-teeth- which he had really forgotten about, if he was being truly honest- were cute on such a little girl. She was still Hermione, but she was quite different. The only thing that had never changed was the shape and color of her eyes, and he found himself focusing on them, never able to pour over them for such a long time in real life. They were absolutely mesmerizing, and he had to tell himself to look away a couple of times. He couldn't have her figuring out that he loved studying these pictures of her so much. The pictures ranged from infant to thirteen-year-old Hermione, a Hermione he recognized well. He could feel his attachment to her grow as she shared this part of herself with him. It was brave of her, he thought, to bring it up herself instead of a parent bringing them out after supper. Then again, she was a Gryffindor. When he closed the book, he was beaming, and melancholy was filling his heart. She was beautiful now, but she'd been beautiful then, too. For a second, he imagined a little Hermione, but with straight ginger hair and a different skin tone that was closer to his. He could feel his breath catch in his throat and hurriedly shook the image from his head.

_Children? Jumping the gun a bit, aren't we, Weasley? You don't even want to tell her how you feel about her and the sentimental part of your brain already has you with a kid. The kid was cute, though, wasn't she? Oh, stop thinking, you sod._

"So?" Hermione said, trying to seem like she wasn't nervous, but Ron could see her hand trembling. "How bad?"

"Not bad. At all," he croaked, his voice a bit scratchy.

"Really?" she breathed.

"Really."

She smiled at him, cheeks tingeing pink a little bit. Then she said,

"Did I ever tell you about the first time I realized I was performing magic?"

He frowned, thinking back.

"Nope," he replied once he had thought about it. "I don't think you did."

"Want to hear it?"

Ron propped himself up on his elbows, nodded, and stared at her attentively.

"Go for it!"

She chuckled. She swallowed. She fiddled with a hole in the carpet. Then she launched into the story.

"Looking back, I realize that it wasn't the first time I did magic. But it was the first time that I was really aware that what I was doing wasn't normal. It was the first day of second grade, and I remember being so excited. I walked in clutching the books I had spent all summer reading. I raised my hand for all the questions the teacher asked and I got all of them right. I finished my work before everyone. I got the furthest in my book during silent reading time. And a couple of the girls and boys in the class didn't like that very much. They started taunting me with all these stupid things-"

"Like what?" Ron interrupted.

"Uh-"

"I want to know what they are so I can tell you that they were lying," Ron told her truthfully.

Hermione smiled.

"The usual, really. Hermione Stranger instead of Granger-"

"You're not strange."

"Herman, because they said I wasn't feminine enough to be a girl-"

"You're girly enough, thank you very much."

"Know-it-all."

Ron hesitated.

"You have me there. You are a know-it-all, Hermione. But it's endearing."

She flushed.

"It wasn't at first."

"Now it is. Continue with the story?"

"Fine," Hermione laughed. "Well, they sat in a circle on the floor and started talking really loudly about me reading too much. Before I knew it, all of the buckets full of paperback books tipped over and fell on their heads, burying them in a pile of books."

Ron burst into laughter, throwing his head back and letting the belly laughs cascade from his lips.

"You're brilliant," he said, gazing at her admiringly. Hermione flushed.

"Well, needless to say, they never went over to those shelves again," Hermione smirked. "And they didn't stop teasing me, but that was what let me know that there might be something special about me. It gave me hope, let me start telling myself that I could go somewhere in life that they couldn't. At the time it was being Prime Minister, not a witch, but you know."

She looked over at him, smiling softly, and Ron took in the intense vulnerability that she must have overcome to tell him her story.

"Thanks for telling me that," he whispered.

"You're welcome," she said back.

"We should probably go to sleep," Ron sighed, flopping onto his back.

"I don't want to," Hermione admitted.

"Me either," Ron said.

Hermione stared at him.

"Let's not, then."

"Okay." There was a pause.

"We could play Would You Rather," Hermione said jokingly.

"Okay," Ron agreed. "Would you rather... fail a test or eat one of Aragog's children?"

He had never seen Hermione look so torn.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because sometimes, to fall asleep, all you need is your best friend. Your boyfriend. Your fiancee. Your wife. Your soul mate. A collection of 30 moments in a lifetime during which Ron and Hermione just couldn't fall asleep.

**Chapter Thirteen  
** _Sixth Year: 1997_

She didn't know why, but she was nervous. She told herself over and over again that it was because Harry was out trying to get the memory from Slughorn, but in her heart Hermione knew it wasn't true. The reason she was nervous was because right now, Lavender was yelling at Ron for being alone in the dorms with Hermione. And Hermione was sitting there, watching it all, and hoping and praying that Lavender would break up with him. Ever since Ron had muttered Hermione's name in his sleep, everything had changed. She had become more hopeful on the prospect of Ron. She had considered the idea that they could be something, that maybe he felt something more for her than just friendship. After all, you didn't just moan someone's name in your sleep and then say that you were just friends. Not that Ron said anything of the sort. After all, he wasn't exactly aware of the fact that he had said her name that night. It wasn't like she'd told him. How do you approach that conversation?

**"** _Hi, Ron! How are you today? By the way, when you were poisoned you sort of said my name in your sleep, and I was wondering if that actually means something?"_

Yeah, that just wasn't going to happen. It was bad enough that Hermione fancied him in the first place, but if she asked him about it he'd surely figure out her feelings for him. Which was sure to be a horridly awkward situation, especially if Ron didn't fancy her back. She'd told herself over and over again that there was no chance that he would like her, that she was just going to have to deal with it, but lately she'd been starting to wonder if she was wrong. One day, when she'd thought he was jealous of Cormac McLaggen, Hermione had summoned up all her courage and asked him to go to Slughorn's Christmas Party with her. She'd been under the impression he was going to come with her, too. It had been one of the most euphoric events of her life, and she'd been so excited, choosing a new set of robes to preorder for the party even though it was only September. Hermione knew that if she went to Slughorn's Christmas party with Ron, something good would happen. But then she'd seen him snogging Lavender, and she'd known that he wouldn't want to go with her anymore. That was it. They were over before they begun, and any chance of starting something at the party was completely gone.

She'd never felt as much pain in her life as she did the day she saw Ron with Lavender for the first time. Yes, she'd been teased when she was young, but she was always so strong about it. It had hurt, even made her cry a few times, but nothing like this. Yes, she'd felt physical pain a few times, but the sticks and stones that broke her bones didn't hurt nearly as much as Ron snogging Lavender. This was an outright rejection, the boy she fancied telling her that he really didn't give a damn about her. This was equivalent to him walking up to her and slapping her across the face. This was him shutting her down after she'd looked at his childhood pictures, after he'd looked at hers, after she'd made herself vulnerable because she was stupid enough to like him that much. She'd spent hours crying, going over everything she'd ever done wrong in life that had brought her to this moment, telling herself she was ugly and boring and muggleborn, all the things that weren't good enough for Ron. She knew in her heart that he had told her she was pretty, and if she was boring he wouldn't hang out with her so much, and that he didn't give a damn about her blood-status, but it didn't matter at all. She was in pain, and she kept on adding to her pain no matter how horrible it was. Hermione stopped crying outwardly, but had spent every day since that first one in the common room in crying on the inside. Every time she looked at Ron, she felt like someone was jabbing her in the chest with a knife.

She had missed him so much when they weren't talking. She would bank things to tell him later, then remember that they weren't speaking. She would imagine what he'd say to something if he heard it. She would wonder what he was doing, if he ever thought about her. She would wonder why she cared so much when she was trying so hard to move on. But there was always a part of Hermione that knew she couldn't. The heart wants what the heart wants, and hers wanted Ron. Most unfortunately. Of course, everything had changed when he had gotten poisoned. All anger was erased from her system and replaced by desperation and hysteria. The sadness washed away for the time being, taken over by a raw need to get to Ron, to know that he was breathing, as if somehow being near to him would ensure that he was fine.

 **"** What were you doing with her?" Lavender screeched for the fiftieth time, and Hermione rolled her eyes. She couldn't believe Lavender was considering the idea that Ron would cheat on her. That would never happen- he had much more moral value than that. She bit her tongue, however, and hoped that Ron would play his cards wrong. She just wanted them to break up and get this hellish school year over with- it had been by far the worst one.

 **"** Nothing!" Ron roared, and every set of eyes in the common room seemed to roll. The same words had been exchanged back and forth between the two of them for the better part of an hour, and Hermione was finding this fight rather repetitive. She now knew what it felt like to be Harry, and it came with a newfound respect for her best platonic friend.

 **"** What were you doing?" Lavender asked again, but this time she directed her question towards Hermione. Hermione's eyes widened. She knew that there were two ways this conversation could play out. Briefly, she considered the fun way.

**"** _We were passionately snogging, Lavender. What are you going to do about it?"_

**"** _Wh-what? NO! No you weren't!"_

**"** _You're right, we weren't, but you can't prove that and you can't prove that we were, either."_

**"** _Huh? Look, Hermione, I'm just a blond bimbo who's too stupid to understand what you're saying. Could you just-?"_

**"** _It means it's your decision because you can't prove it either way, so just make your choice, dammit!"_

**"** Nothing," she said instead. "Nothing was happening, Lavender, we were just talking."

 **"** Talking?" Lavender yelled. "Yeah right!"

Hermione was already bored with this fight. It seemed to her as though Lavender wanted drama for the sake of creating drama, and nothing else. She was frozen where she stood, watching the whole thing play out and trying desperately to turn the attention away from her.

 **"** We were!" Hermione said. "I was helping him with his Potions essay, really."

It was a lie, but it was closer to the truth than what Lavender thought. Hermione actually blushed as she considered what Lavender may think they were doing up there. She and Ron turned red every time their hands bumped, for the love of Merlin. How could they be up in Ron's dorm snogging or worse? Even if Harry hadn't been there (which he had, though they couldn't tell Lavender), the idea of taking their odd relationship to a physical level was nerve wracking and scary and something Hermione couldn't think about right then because she didn't need her face to get more red than it was.

 **"** We're over!" Lavender was saying. "I see the way you look at her, Ron Weasley, and I know what you feel for her is more than friendship! I tried to look past it, I really did, but you can't even be subtle!"

 **"** Lavender-" Ron said weakly, and Hermione was surprised to see he was fighting back. He had turned redder yet when Lavender had started talking about him liking Hermione that way, and Hermione had to wonder if this was a positive sign.

 **"** Just leave me alone!" Lavender said dramatically, and then she dove for the stairs to the girls' dormitory and hurried up them.

There was a pause as everyone in the common room took in what had just happened. Then, nearly every girl in the common room rushed up to her dorm to see what Lavender was doing. The boys moved closer to Ron, teasing him and shoving Hermione aside.

 **"** SOD OFF!" Ron said finally, pulling his wand out, and at his yell every sixth year and under boy left the common room in a state of high alarm. Groaning, Ron threw himself onto the recently vacated couch, wondering how the common room had pretty much cleared out in a matter of minutes. He buried his head in his hands and Hermione sat down next to him quietly. She waited to speak for a long time. It was very dark outside, and the common room had completely cleared out. She just watched as he sat with his head in his hands. She wondered if he was crying, but she didn't think so. His back wasn't shaking, and, besides, his ears were still burning red. That meant he was embarrassed and didn't want to show his face. After a long time, Hermione took a breath.

 **"** Do you want to talk about it?"

He shook his head.

 **"** Not particularly."

 **"** Do you want me to leave you alone?"

 **"** Not at all."

She hesitated.

 **"** Are you happy about it?"

It was hard to keep the hope out of her voice. He lifted his head out of his hands, and upon seeing the look on her face he smiled very brightly.

 **"** Yeah. Yeah, I am. Don't rub it in, though."

 **"** I would never," Hermione promised.

Ron paused.

 **"** Speaking of my Potions essay..."

Hermione's expression turned exasperated.

 **"** You still haven't done it?"

 **"** Will you help me?"

 **"** No."

 **"** Oh, come on, Hermione!" Ron complained. "I've just suffered a great emotional blow."

 **"** No you haven't!" Hermione laughed.

 **"** Please?" Ron said.

 **"** No, Ron!"

He threw his hands up into the air, a finger accidentally scraping her arm as he did so, very near her armpit. She let out a little squeak and snatched the arm away from him. His eyebrows rose in surprise.

 **"** What was... wait a minute... Hermione, you're ticklish, aren't you?"

Her eyes widened.

 **"** No I'm not!"

 **"** Yeah, you are, that's why you made that noise!"

She flushed.

 **"** Stop looking as though Christmas has come early."

 **"** Oh, but it has."

 **"** I don't know what you're so happy about, anyways," Hermione grumbled.

 **"** Hermione," Ron said, looking her sincerely in the eyes, "if you don't help me with my essay, I'll tickle you."

 **"** No fair!" Hermione moaned. He twitched his fingers at her. "I'm calling your bluff. You wouldn't tickle me."

 **"** Help me with my essay, Hermione."

 **"** No."

 **"** Sure about that?"

 **"** Uh-huh."

 **"** Really, really, sure?"

 **"** Absolutely."

In a second, he was tickling her. She squealed and squirmed away from him, hair flying out underneath her as she moved to a lying down position on the couch. His fingers continued to probe her warm skin, and uncontrollable giggles were emitting from Hermione's mouth. He'd never heard her laugh like this before, and it was actually quite fascinating. He'd almost forgotten why he'd started tickling her in the first place.

 **"** Rooooooon!" she screamed. "NO!"

 **"** HELP ME WITH MY ESSAY!" he roared, trying to make his words discernible over his laughter.

 **"** Mmpphhh... no!"

 **"** Hermione!" he breathed, his voice much closer to her ear now, and she opened her eyes to see him very, very close. "Please?"

It suddenly seemed to occur to her the position they were in. She was lying back against the couch, yelling his name, and he had one leg on either side of her waist. His lips were very close to her ear, and it was with a shocked gasp that she sat up and desperately attempted to cling to a bit of dignity by fixing her hair.

 **"** Okay," she said, dragging a piece of parchment out of her bag. Then she paused, a smirk in her voice as she spoke again. "But just you wait until I find out where  _you're_ ticklish."

No, he couldn't wait. That'd be a very excellent day.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because sometimes, to fall asleep, all you need is your best friend. Your boyfriend. Your fiancee. Your wife. Your soul mate. A collection of 30 moments in a lifetime during which Ron and Hermione just couldn't fall asleep.

**Chapter Fourteen  
** _July: 1997_

He was pacing back and forth, nerves taking over every other emotion in the world. He didn't exactly know what he was nervous about, but was aware that there were two prospects. First, he could be nervous about Hermione getting to the Burrow. He hadn't seen her in a few weeks, and already he missed her. When she wasn't with him, he felt different, like there was a piece of him missing. It was as though she had a segment of him that she took every time she left, and he didn't get it back until she returned. In preparation for Hermione's arrival, Ron had changed his shirt at least ten times, cleaned his room, and eaten very little breakfast, lunch, or dinner. He had combed his hair three times, refused to play Quidditch, and taken two showers.

He didn't quite understand why the idea of Hermione coming over scared him so much. Maybe it was because the last time she'd been to his house, he hadn't been so sure of his feelings for her. Or, that he hadn't been so sure of her feelings for him. After everything that had happened in their sixth year, Ron had come to a realization. People who had totally platonic feelings for him didn't  _act_ like Hermione did around him. She felt something for him, and that was why she was so upset about Lavender. Somehow, though, knowing this didn't make anything easier on Ron.

He couldn't make a move on her. Not now. Not when they were facing months, or years maybe, on the run with Harry. Not when there was a war going on, a war that was going to take over their entire world. He couldn't tell her how he felt because life was too scary right then, and the idea of having her and then losing her was even worse than the idea of not telling her and then losing her. Not that he planned on letting her die on him, but still. You never knew. Of course, there was the added fact that he still wasn't one hundred percent positive of her feelings for him. And if Hermione didn't have feelings for him and he confessed his feelings, it would be the most awkward Horcrux Hunt there ever was.

Of course, there was another reason why he could be nervous, too. At the moment, Hermione was at home. And she was erasing her parents' memories that day. She was going to perform an obliviation spell on them and make them forget their own daughter. She was going to make them different people. She was going to lose track of them and have to find them again. It was going to be so, so difficult for her. Hermione knew that there was a chance that her parents would never remember her again. If she died during this hunt, they wouldn't even grieve her. And if she didn't die, there would be so many added complications, like trying to find them in Australia and making sure that the spell was right. They might be angry once they found out what she had done to them, even if she was only doing it for the best.

Ron had never met Hermione's parents, but he always imagined them to be a lot like her. He imagined that Hermione would be furious if someone changed her memory, even if it was for her own safety. He'd do it himself, to keep her safe, but he didn't know how and didn't want to damage her memory further, which he'd probably end up doing if he tried. Besides, he knew that he and Harry would never find all the Horcruxes without her. They needed Hermione more than either of them cared to admit. So now, all there was to do was wait and hope that everything went well and hope that he'd be able to comfort Hermione when she arrived. He had a feeling she would be an emotional wreck. Ron glanced down at his hand, where the familiar letter from Hermione was clutched protectively. He'd read it so many times, dread and excitement clashing through him, that it was well worn. He had missed her handwriting- it was comforting to him to see how it had never changed, even though so much was different.

_Dear Ron,_ **  
** _In light of what is going on in our world, I've decided that drastic measures needed to be taken. Remember in fourth year when you told me everything would change because Voldemort was (is) back? I've finally accepted that some things need to be changed for the worse in order for everything to be better. Ron, I've told my parents so much about you and Harry. When I came home for summer break, all I wanted to do was jabber on about how wonderful my two friends were (are). I'm afraid the Death Eaters will go after them, so I've decided to take action. I'm going to change my parents' memories. I'm going to make them Monika and Wendell Wilkins, and they're going to move to Australia and start a business and forget that they have a daughter. I'll come to the Burrow on Friday, July fifteenth. I don't know what time, though. I don't know how long it will take me to muster the courage to do this. Hope you're well, Ron. Stay safe, will you? -Hermione_

It was late at night, and she wasn't there yet. Everyone in the Burrow had spent the day preparing for Hermione's arrival, albeit none of them quite as excitedly as Ron. Finally, at midnight, most of the Weasleys had gone to bed. _All_ of the Weasleys had gone to bed, as a matter of fact-except Ron. He knew Hermione would need a shoulder to cry on when she got there, and the idea of being asleep when she knocked on the door was horrifying. He had remained in the kitchen the whole night, tossing back nearly a whole carton of pumpkin juice in a successful effort to stay awake. The tangy taste kept him awake and heightened his senses. Spurts of energy caused him to start pacing. When was she going to get there? He'd already read  _Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches_ twice for information while waiting. He'd been on edge the whole day.

Ginny had teased him mercilessly. She was just started to get some of her pep back from her breakup with Harry. She had been relatively subdued since the start of the summer, but now she was much happier. Ron rather thought that his little sister had accepted that Harry couldn't be with her. She hadn't moved on, though. Everyone, including Ginny, knew that if both of them survived the war, Harry would probably still want to date her. Which was just fine with Ron. Ginny could remain single for the time being, and he wouldn't have to worry about hunting some boy down and punching him while Ron was Horxcrux hunting with Harry and Hermione. Ron let out a little snort at that thought, which was interrupted midway as he heard a tentative knock at the door. He got to it in two large strides and pulled it open. Hermione's fist was still in midair as he swung it open. He took in her appearance almost greedily, as he had missed her face. Currently, her gorgeous brown eyes were bloodshot. Upon seeing him, she seemed to melt a little bit, and cried harder.

 **"** Oh, Hermione," he sighed, and then he pulled her into a hug without thinking about it. Instinct took over everything else when she was upset like this, and he didn't have the energy to be self-conscious. He let her tears soak his shirt, accepted her hurt into his heart, because after the bravery she had just shown he couldn't fathom anyone facing pain like that on alone. Her arms clasped around his neck and her nose lightly trailed up and down his chest as she shook from sobbing. He let one hand rest on her back, making comforting circles, and tangled the other one into her hair, pulling her closer and holding her in place. He wasn't going to let her run away from him. She had to know that he would always be there.

 **"** I... I..." Hermione sniffled, but she couldn't talk, and Ron understood anyway.

 **"** I know," he said quietly, and she started to cry harder still.

Quickly, he led her out of the house, and found the Apparation point of the Burrow. He turned on the spot, arms still around her, and found himself relieved at the way he could feel her warm body pressed up against his in the darkness of apparation. He couldn't be separated from her- not when she was like this. They ended up in a dark park, full of flowers and trees and stone benches. Ron led Hermione over to one of those and they sat. She curled her legs underneath herself, fisted his shirt in her hands and leaned against him. He was instantly gratified by her actions. She trusted him enough to let go like this; she needed him as much as he wanted her to need him. Ron wondered how he had been snogging Lavender to make Hermione jealous just a few months ago. He felt so different-so much older, more mature.

Hermione gazed up at him, moonlight illuminating her tears, and when she spoke her words gripped Ron's heart and twisted it.

 **"** You know what the worst part about this is?"

 **"** No," he whispered, unable to fathom doing this to his own parents. His mum would kill him twenty times over if she ever got her memory back.

 **"** When I had parents, I felt like I belonged to someone. No matter what happened, there was always someone that cared for me and the outcome of my life. Someone to care what happened to me, someone to make proud. But now, I'm not anyone's. I'm entirely on my own, Ron, and it's so much scarier like that. I know how Harry must feel now... an orphan. Alone. I just never understood how important it was to belong to someone until just now, you know?"

No, he didn't know. Because while Hermione was saying this, something occurred to him that apparently hadn't occurred to her yet.  _But you do belong to someone, Hermione. You belong to me. And I belong to you. And I care what happens to you, and I try to make you proud, and you care what happens to me and you make me proud. How have you not recognized this yet? I'm yours, and you're mine, and that's how it was always meant to be._ He wondered if it was because her feelings weren't entirely the same as his. That didn't make sense, though. Ron wished he could just lean down and kiss her, claim her for his own once and for all.

It wasn't the right time. Would it ever be the right time? Would there ever be a time just for them, when he could lean down and snog her senseless and release that pent up passion that years of sensual moments and sexual tension had built? Would it ever be safe to be with Hermione, to tell her how much she meant to him? Ron wished that life didn't come with so many risks. He couldn't take them all.

 **"** Hermione," he whispered, "I wish I could articulate to you how badly I want to make it all better. But I can't. I can just tell you... I'll always be here, okay? No matter what."

At that moment, he really was sure of it.

 **"** I... I just wish I knew there was someone to care when I die," she said finally, her voice quiet.

Ron's body grew rigid. He felt himself become completely offended at the girl in his arms, so vulnerable and yet so silly and stupid and dramatic and heartbroken.

 **"** First of all... how the hell could you possibly think you could die in this war? If you think you're going to bloody kick the bucket, you've got another thing coming. There is no way in hell I'd let you get away from me that easy, alright, Hermione?"

 **"** Er-"

 **"** Furthermore," Ron said, cutting her off. "Where do you get off thinking that no one would care if you died? Who am I, chopped liver? Who is Harry? Who's Ginny? We're the closest damn thing you've got to family right now, and we love you, and you'd do well to remember that, Hermione."

She stared at him, her eyes wide.

 **"** Really?" she murmured.

 **"** Really," Ron said, rolling his eyes. "If it means that much to you to have a family, you can just be a Weasley until the war ends and you can restore your parents' memories."

For some reason, they both blushed at his words.

 **"** I don't have red hair."

 **"** We make allowances. Neither does Fleur, but she and Bill are getting married," said Ron. He seemed to realize what he was rambling on about and hastily changed the subject. "You know I'll be right with you when you go back for them, right?"

 **"** What?" Hermione asked, frowning.

 **"** When you go to Australia to get your parents, I'm going to be with you. No matter what."

 **"** Do you promise?" she questioned him.

 **"** Yeah," Ron said sincerely. "I do."

 **"** You're wonderful, Ron," Hermione sighed. "Everything about you is wonderful. Even this place is wonderful... it reminds me that there's beauty in the world even in the darkest of times. You picked the perfect area to find peace and quiet and content."

 **"** Always the tone of surprise," said Ron, who was feeling rather content himself. "But now we'd better go, just in case mum wakes up, finds us gone and has a cow." He stood up, took her hand and spun on the spot. They ended up back at the Burrow and re-entered as quietly as they could. Silently, they climbed the stairs. When they got to the landing of Ginny's room, they paused. "The cot isn't set up in there..." Ron said, realization dawning on him. "Er, you could sleep on the couch."

Hermione looked terrified at the very thought.

 **"** I... I can't be alone right now," she admitted honestly.

In response, Ron grabbed her hand and pulled her all the way up to his attic bedroom. He threw her bag on the bed and motioned for her to sit on it. She did.

 **"** I'll kip on the floor," Ron said, and he started to lie down.

 **"** Why?" Hermione asked. "Surely there's enough room on here for both of us?"

Ron raised his eyebrows doubtfully. Obviously she had never been on his bed before.

 **"** Your call," he shrugged after a second, and he sat next to her and got under the covers without even bothering to change into night clothes. Hermione followed his lead.

 **"** I don't think I'll be able to sleep," she proclaimed after a few minutes of lying in silence. "My mind's so full."

 **"** What if I read to you?" Ron asked. Hermione's eyes widened at the idea of Ron offering to read to her, something a few months ago he would never willingly do.

 **"** Sure," she replied. "Do you have a book?" In response, Ron reached under his bed and dug out the biggest thing he could find. He held it up for Hermione to see, and she gasped in delight. "Hogwarts, A History!"

Without further ado, he opened it up and read. As she fell asleep lying on his shoulder, Ron realized that the two of them had come full circle. He remembered the first night he'd really started to like her as a person. He hadn't been able to sleep, and she'd read to him from this book. That had been the beginning of them moving toward a friendship, the beginning of their Hogwarts years. This night was ending that era, pulling them into a new time. They had changed so much, experienced so much. They were older, wiser, and better.

All because of each other.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because sometimes, to fall asleep, all you need is your best friend. Your boyfriend. Your fiancee. Your wife. Your soul mate. A collection of 30 moments in a lifetime during which Ron and Hermione just couldn't fall asleep.

**Chapter Fifteen  
** _October: 1997_

She could still remember dancing with him. She could remember his eyes never leaving hers, his arms around her waist, the warmth of his neck against her fingertips. She could remember the feeling of his body pressed tightly against hers andthe longing she'd felt to play with the little hairs at the nape of his neck. Hermione had promised to herself that if she ever got the opportunity again, she'd touch his hair to her hearts content. She was so sick and tired of trying to deny her attraction to Ron. If there hadn't been a war on right outside their tent, Hermione absolutely would have strode up to him and told him she fancied him, right then and there. Of course, she couldn't. So she remembered. She sat there remembering him dancing with her, trying not to cry at the way their lives had changed so much in just a few months.

They were on the run. They were in perpetual danger. It was highly doubtful that all three of them would make it through the war. Someone had to die, right? It only made sense. Hermione felt as though there was a ticker going off above each of their heads. The tickers were invisible, and showed how much time they had until they were going to die. It would be so nice if they weren't invisible. Wouldn't it be wonderful to know how much time you had left on this earth? If you knew that, you wouldn't have any regrets, would you? You'd just get it all out of your system before you died, and that was that. Hermione liked that idea. She couldn't tell Ron how she felt about him now, but she also couldn't imagine dying without him knowing how ardently she fancied him. She absolutely needed him with everything she had. He was keeping her sane.

In her mind, Ronald Weasley had kept on dancing with her. He had never stopped; never let her go. In his new pair of dress robes and small smile, he had told her she was beautiful. He had told her he loved her dress robes. He had told her that he'd never seen more gorgeous hair than hers. He had told her he loved how smart she was. He had professed his love for her over and over again, finally leaning down to place a gentle kiss on her lips. His love, his unconditional love that was only for her. She could picture growing old with him, having children with him, getting married to him. She could picture the two of them being so happy in a world without Voldemort. A world without Voldemort, it turned out, was a most beautiful world indeed. She and Ron basked in the glow of the life they'd always wanted. Mrs. Weasley was her mother-in-law, and Ron got on well with her father, and every damn thing was perfect. They had jobs that they loved and they never stopped loving each other either. And whenever Hermione couldn't stand the world anymore, all she had to do was vanish into a world where Ron never stopped dancing with her at the wedding.

The daydreams were nice, but they were obviously highly inaccurate. She and Ron weren't married and they probably would never be. But they  _had_ danced together, and that was why Hermione basked in that memory so much. Maybe, if they hadn't stopped, the death eaters wouldn't have crashed the wedding. Maybe, if they hadn't stopped, something beautiful would have happened, like him telling her he fancied her or him leaning down to kiss her. The look on his face as he'd leaned down... it was the most glorious thing she'd ever imagined, to be honest. Picturing it, she'd forget the war, forget Voldemort. She sincerely doubted she could ever be unhappy again so long as Ron Weasley kept on looking at her like that.

But now look where they were. They were in the middle of the woods with absolutely nowhere to go. They were wearing a locket that put them in perpetually bad moods. They didn't laugh or flirt or tease anymore. It was all bickering, but not the good kind of bickering. This wasn't the kind of bickering that set Hermione's senses on fire and lit up her world. It wasn't the kind that she'd review in her mind afterwards, flushing pleasurably at the memory. It wasn't the kind that didn't mean anything two hours later, or the kind that made her fancy Ron just a little bit more. It was a raw anger and frustration that broke her heart every time she experienced it. They were so scared, all three of them. All they wanted was to kill Voldemort, but they were just a group of teenagers. For the first time in her life, Hermione felt stupid. She felt like a helpless idiot, because there was nothing they could do to help the situation. She needed more information- had anyone ever written a book on Voldemort and his Horcruxes?

She laughed bitterly at the irony. Of course no one had. No one even knew about them. That was why three teenagers had ended up with the job of destroying them. That would have been too easy, too simple, to have the information they needed handed to them on a silver platter. Lately, Hermione wondered if anything about Dumbledore was simple. Certainly nothing about the task he had set them on was. She kept on looking over  _Tales of Beedle the Bard_ to see if there was some sort of Horcrux hint in there, but there never was. It seemed to Hermione that Dumbledore had just given her a goddamn book to keep her mind off of the putrid task she had been set. Merlin's pants, what had she been thinking when she befriended Harry Potter? She hadn't really known about the hell it would bring her when she'd signed up for the job. It would have been so much easier to become friends with anybody else in the world. Sometimes she wished Professor Quarrel had never let the troll into the school. But then she knew that Harry and Ron wouldn't have been able to get this far without her. They'd probably both be dead, as a matter of fact. And of course she couldn't have let that happen. It didn't matter where she was now- her boys were relatively safe, and she was going to keep them that way.

They didn't seem much like her boys anymore, though. Ron was always angry and scared. He didn't make jokes anymore, he didn't talk with his mouth full. He mostly didn't talk at all, really. The only time he did talk was to complain about something, which drove Harry crazy. If they ever got out of this version of hell, she promised herself that she'd personally ensure that he never, ever missed a single meal. His personality was absolutely unbearable, and she wanted to smack him across the face most of the time. When Hermione looked at Ron, she didn't see the boy she'd had a crush on for what seemed to her was most of her life. She saw someone completely different, someone who she trusted less, someone who didn't possess all of the attributes her beloved version of Ron did. She hated it, and hated what this war was doing to him. Not that Hermione was too great in light of their situation, but she wasn't as bad as Ron. Mostly, she couldn't stand Ron. Harry wasn't much better, though. He liked to believe he was the most helpful person on the hunt, but in all honesty he wasn't. He was their source for information, and he wasn't doing very well. He vetoed every idea Hermione came up with, and he spent half of his time throwing annoyed looks at Ron, who refused to make any contributions to the planning conversations except to swear loudly or make a quip about how ill prepared they were. Hermione wondered if it was the locket that was affecting him so much. She often caught him glaring at her and Harry when they were talking and planning, a look that made her heart hammer a little harder than it had been before. It was the same look he'd given her and Viktor Krum when they'd gone to the Yule Ball together, but in a way it was different. It was full of even more loathing than he'd given Viktor Krum and tinted with betrayal. But surely he couldn't think there was something going on between her and Harry? Even if he did have feelings for her, she had made it blatantly obvious that her feelings were for him and not for Harry. How could Ron assume such a thing?

An outbreak of yelling disrupted her from her reverie, causing Hermione to fall down in surprise.

She'd been hunched over a patch of mushrooms trying to figure out whether or not they were poisonous by light of her wand. So far, her copy of  _1000 Magical Herbs and Fungi_ had been mostly useless, but there was a little information on mushrooms because some had magical properties and you could use them in potions. Hermione had been less lucky with the berries. Berries didn't have any magic in them, so she had to figure out for herself which ones were poisonous. She'd mostly avoided them unless she was sure they were edible, but had considered a few times using Ron or Harry as an unknowing poison tester. She had been instantly ashamed after these thoughts, but had been wearing the locket every time it happened, so she had just chalked it up to that and tried not to look too guilty. She had come outside that night to escape the horrible coldness between the two of them, but it sounded as though Harry was yelling at Ron for having his radio on again.

Sighing, Hermione straightened up just in time to see Ron's bright hair poking out of the tent, followed quickly by the rest of him. For a second, as their eyes met, everything seemed calm again. She felt at peace and rested for the first time in an eternity. Then it all came crashing back, and she shook her head. Ron strode over to her and she got ready for his tirade.

"He doesn't know what he's doing!" he complained.

"I know," Hermione whispered, trying to make her voice sound slightly comforting.

"I mean, doesn't he have some sort of information he hasn't told us?" Ron hissed. "Why isn't he telling?"

"I don't know," said Hermione quietly. "I don't think there is any information he has, Ron. I think he might have told us everything."

"But how is that possible?" Ron whined.

"I don't know," Hermione repeated. She felt slightly exasperated- it was as though Ron hadn't been present the last eighteen times they'd had this conversation.

"I just can't-" Suddenly, Harry appeared at the mouth of the tent. Ron abruptly stopped talking. Harry stared at them for a few seconds, let out a derisive huff and turned around, back into the tent. "As I was saying-"

"Stop it!" Hermione shrieked suddenly, turning around to Ron. "Look, Ron, you're great, and you know how much I love to hear you abusing our best friend but..." she paused, then continued. "I'm scared. And right now I need the side of you that can comfort me. The side that I knew before you put on that locket for the first time. Bring him back for a bit, would you please?"

Ron seemed to melt, and his expression turned pained.

"I'm sorry," he muttered. "I'm so, so sorry Hermione."

"Don't-"

"No,  _you_  don't," he said. Then he opened his arms and allowed her to walk into them. She could feel him breathing underneath her as he rested his chin on her head. She could feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest and wondered if he could feel hers. "I've been horrible to you, I'm sorry."

"It's okay," she murmured, letting a few tears fall from her eyes.

"It isn't," he said. "I'm a selfish bastard."

Hermione laughed.

"Oh, of course you're not."

She resisted the urge to slide her hands up into his hair. Instead, she looked up at him, and saw that his smile was lighting up his face.

"Really?" he asked eagerly. "I'm not a selfish bastard?"

"No, you're not."

"Thanks," he told her. "I think I needed that."

She beamed up at him, letting her guard down so that she could soak in his presence. She knew the good mood was fleeting- after all, neither of them was wearing the locket, but the shift was almost up and this Ron would be gone just a few minutes after he placed the locket around his neck.

"RON!" Harry yelled from the tent. "You left your bloody radio on! Turn it off!"

"Turn it off yourself!" Ron yelled back.

"NO!"

"SOD OFF HARRY!" Ron roared at him.

"Ron-"

"Fine!" Ron huffed, and he whirled around and walked back up the hill and to the tent. Hermione groaned as she watched him go. She closed her eyes and tried to recover her emotions, get herself away from the teenage girl she was and back to who she needed to be at the moment. She could hear Harry and Ron snapping at each other at the mouth of the tent and squeezed her lips together, trying to keep her temper.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because sometimes, to fall asleep, all you need is your best friend. Your boyfriend. Your fiancee. Your wife. Your soul mate. A collection of 30 moments in a lifetime during which Ron and Hermione just couldn't fall asleep.

**Chapter Fifteen  
** _October: 1997_

She could still remember dancing with him. She could remember his eyes never leaving hers, his arms around her waist, the warmth of his neck against her fingertips. She could remember the feeling of his body pressed tightly against hers andthe longing she'd felt to play with the little hairs at the nape of his neck. Hermione had promised to herself that if she ever got the opportunity again, she'd touch his hair to her hearts content. She was so sick and tired of trying to deny her attraction to Ron. If there hadn't been a war on right outside their tent, Hermione absolutely would have strode up to him and told him she fancied him, right then and there. Of course, she couldn't. So she remembered. She sat there remembering him dancing with her, trying not to cry at the way their lives had changed so much in just a few months.

They were on the run. They were in perpetual danger. It was highly doubtful that all three of them would make it through the war. Someone had to die, right? It only made sense. Hermione felt as though there was a ticker going off above each of their heads. The tickers were invisible, and showed how much time they had until they were going to die. It would be so nice if they weren't invisible. Wouldn't it be wonderful to know how much time you had left on this earth? If you knew that, you wouldn't have any regrets, would you? You'd just get it all out of your system before you died, and that was that. Hermione liked that idea. She couldn't tell Ron how she felt about him now, but she also couldn't imagine dying without him knowing how ardently she fancied him. She absolutely needed him with everything she had. He was keeping her sane.

In her mind, Ronald Weasley had kept on dancing with her. He had never stopped; never let her go. In his new pair of dress robes and small smile, he had told her she was beautiful. He had told her he loved her dress robes. He had told her that he'd never seen more gorgeous hair than hers. He had told her he loved how smart she was. He had professed his love for her over and over again, finally leaning down to place a gentle kiss on her lips. His love, his unconditional love that was only for her. She could picture growing old with him, having children with him, getting married to him. She could picture the two of them being so happy in a world without Voldemort. A world without Voldemort, it turned out, was a most beautiful world indeed. She and Ron basked in the glow of the life they'd always wanted. Mrs. Weasley was her mother-in-law, and Ron got on well with her father, and every damn thing was perfect. They had jobs that they loved and they never stopped loving each other either. And whenever Hermione couldn't stand the world anymore, all she had to do was vanish into a world where Ron never stopped dancing with her at the wedding.

The daydreams were nice, but they were obviously highly inaccurate. She and Ron weren't married and they probably would never be. But they  _had_ danced together, and that was why Hermione basked in that memory so much. Maybe, if they hadn't stopped, the death eaters wouldn't have crashed the wedding. Maybe, if they hadn't stopped, something beautiful would have happened, like him telling her he fancied her or him leaning down to kiss her. The look on his face as he'd leaned down... it was the most glorious thing she'd ever imagined, to be honest. Picturing it, she'd forget the war, forget Voldemort. She sincerely doubted she could ever be unhappy again so long as Ron Weasley kept on looking at her like that.

But now look where they were. They were in the middle of the woods with absolutely nowhere to go. They were wearing a locket that put them in perpetually bad moods. They didn't laugh or flirt or tease anymore. It was all bickering, but not the good kind of bickering. This wasn't the kind of bickering that set Hermione's senses on fire and lit up her world. It wasn't the kind that she'd review in her mind afterwards, flushing pleasurably at the memory. It wasn't the kind that didn't mean anything two hours later, or the kind that made her fancy Ron just a little bit more. It was a raw anger and frustration that broke her heart every time she experienced it. They were so scared, all three of them. All they wanted was to kill Voldemort, but they were just a group of teenagers. For the first time in her life, Hermione felt stupid. She felt like a helpless idiot, because there was nothing they could do to help the situation. She needed more information- had anyone ever written a book on Voldemort and his Horcruxes?

She laughed bitterly at the irony. Of course no one had. No one even knew about them. That was why three teenagers had ended up with the job of destroying them. That would have been too easy, too simple, to have the information they needed handed to them on a silver platter. Lately, Hermione wondered if anything about Dumbledore was simple. Certainly nothing about the task he had set them on was. She kept on looking over  _Tales of Beedle the Bard_ to see if there was some sort of Horcrux hint in there, but there never was. It seemed to Hermione that Dumbledore had just given her a goddamn book to keep her mind off of the putrid task she had been set. Merlin's pants, what had she been thinking when she befriended Harry Potter? She hadn't really known about the hell it would bring her when she'd signed up for the job. It would have been so much easier to become friends with anybody else in the world. Sometimes she wished Professor Quarrel had never let the troll into the school. But then she knew that Harry and Ron wouldn't have been able to get this far without her. They'd probably both be dead, as a matter of fact. And of course she couldn't have let that happen. It didn't matter where she was now- her boys were relatively safe, and she was going to keep them that way.

They didn't seem much like her boys anymore, though. Ron was always angry and scared. He didn't make jokes anymore, he didn't talk with his mouth full. He mostly didn't talk at all, really. The only time he did talk was to complain about something, which drove Harry crazy. If they ever got out of this version of hell, she promised herself that she'd personally ensure that he never, ever missed a single meal. His personality was absolutely unbearable, and she wanted to smack him across the face most of the time. When Hermione looked at Ron, she didn't see the boy she'd had a crush on for what seemed to her was most of her life. She saw someone completely different, someone who she trusted less, someone who didn't possess all of the attributes her beloved version of Ron did. She hated it, and hated what this war was doing to him. Not that Hermione was too great in light of their situation, but she wasn't as bad as Ron. Mostly, she couldn't stand Ron. Harry wasn't much better, though. He liked to believe he was the most helpful person on the hunt, but in all honesty he wasn't. He was their source for information, and he wasn't doing very well. He vetoed every idea Hermione came up with, and he spent half of his time throwing annoyed looks at Ron, who refused to make any contributions to the planning conversations except to swear loudly or make a quip about how ill prepared they were. Hermione wondered if it was the locket that was affecting him so much. She often caught him glaring at her and Harry when they were talking and planning, a look that made her heart hammer a little harder than it had been before. It was the same look he'd given her and Viktor Krum when they'd gone to the Yule Ball together, but in a way it was different. It was full of even more loathing than he'd given Viktor Krum and tinted with betrayal. But surely he couldn't think there was something going on between her and Harry? Even if he did have feelings for her, she had made it blatantly obvious that her feelings were for him and not for Harry. How could Ron assume such a thing?

An outbreak of yelling disrupted her from her reverie, causing Hermione to fall down in surprise.

She'd been hunched over a patch of mushrooms trying to figure out whether or not they were poisonous by light of her wand. So far, her copy of  _1000 Magical Herbs and Fungi_ had been mostly useless, but there was a little information on mushrooms because some had magical properties and you could use them in potions. Hermione had been less lucky with the berries. Berries didn't have any magic in them, so she had to figure out for herself which ones were poisonous. She'd mostly avoided them unless she was sure they were edible, but had considered a few times using Ron or Harry as an unknowing poison tester. She had been instantly ashamed after these thoughts, but had been wearing the locket every time it happened, so she had just chalked it up to that and tried not to look too guilty. She had come outside that night to escape the horrible coldness between the two of them, but it sounded as though Harry was yelling at Ron for having his radio on again.

Sighing, Hermione straightened up just in time to see Ron's bright hair poking out of the tent, followed quickly by the rest of him. For a second, as their eyes met, everything seemed calm again. She felt at peace and rested for the first time in an eternity. Then it all came crashing back, and she shook her head. Ron strode over to her and she got ready for his tirade.

"He doesn't know what he's doing!" he complained.

"I know," Hermione whispered, trying to make her voice sound slightly comforting.

"I mean, doesn't he have some sort of information he hasn't told us?" Ron hissed. "Why isn't he telling?"

"I don't know," said Hermione quietly. "I don't think there is any information he has, Ron. I think he might have told us everything."

"But how is that possible?" Ron whined.

"I don't know," Hermione repeated. She felt slightly exasperated- it was as though Ron hadn't been present the last eighteen times they'd had this conversation.

"I just can't-" Suddenly, Harry appeared at the mouth of the tent. Ron abruptly stopped talking. Harry stared at them for a few seconds, let out a derisive huff and turned around, back into the tent. "As I was saying-"

"Stop it!" Hermione shrieked suddenly, turning around to Ron. "Look, Ron, you're great, and you know how much I love to hear you abusing our best friend but..." she paused, then continued. "I'm scared. And right now I need the side of you that can comfort me. The side that I knew before you put on that locket for the first time. Bring him back for a bit, would you please?"

Ron seemed to melt, and his expression turned pained.

"I'm sorry," he muttered. "I'm so, so sorry Hermione."

"Don't-"

"No,  _you_  don't," he said. Then he opened his arms and allowed her to walk into them. She could feel him breathing underneath her as he rested his chin on her head. She could feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest and wondered if he could feel hers. "I've been horrible to you, I'm sorry."

"It's okay," she murmured, letting a few tears fall from her eyes.

"It isn't," he said. "I'm a selfish bastard."

Hermione laughed.

"Oh, of course you're not."

She resisted the urge to slide her hands up into his hair. Instead, she looked up at him, and saw that his smile was lighting up his face.

"Really?" he asked eagerly. "I'm not a selfish bastard?"

"No, you're not."

"Thanks," he told her. "I think I needed that."

She beamed up at him, letting her guard down so that she could soak in his presence. She knew the good mood was fleeting- after all, neither of them was wearing the locket, but the shift was almost up and this Ron would be gone just a few minutes after he placed the locket around his neck.

"RON!" Harry yelled from the tent. "You left your bloody radio on! Turn it off!"

"Turn it off yourself!" Ron yelled back.

"NO!"

"SOD OFF HARRY!" Ron roared at him.

"Ron-"

"Fine!" Ron huffed, and he whirled around and walked back up the hill and to the tent. Hermione groaned as she watched him go. She closed her eyes and tried to recover her emotions, get herself away from the teenage girl she was and back to who she needed to be at the moment. She could hear Harry and Ron snapping at each other at the mouth of the tent and squeezed her lips together, trying to keep her temper.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because sometimes, to fall asleep, all you need is your best friend. Your boyfriend. Your fiancee. Your wife. Your soul mate. A collection of 30 moments in a lifetime during which Ron and Hermione just couldn't fall asleep.

**Chapter Seventeen**   
_May: 1998_

"I can't do it."

Hermione watched as Ron Weasley woke up to her familiar face staring incessantly at him, her wide eyes never wavering from his face. She could instantly see the confusion etched into his expression and waited patiently as he tried to grasp where he was and what she was talking about. She hoped he wouldn't be too angry with her for waking him up- shaking Ron Weasley from his slumber was about as safe as tickling a sleeping dragon.

"Can't do what?" he asked groggily, and she bit her lip, causing his eyes to open just a little bit wider. Hermione would have smiled had her feelings not been so messed up.

"I can't pretend to be her, Ron. She... she tortured me. I can't look into the mirror and see that face."

Immediately, he was awake. He sat up and put his arms around her in a comforting manner, trying to get her to understand everything that he felt. Hermione whimpered and burrowed herself further into his arms, so he thought perhaps she understood at least a little bit.

"Every time you say the word torture," he muttered, "I have heart failure, I swear to merlin, Hermione."

She laughed a little bit, quite bitterly.

"Of course you don't."

"I do," Ron murmured, and he brought her arm level with his face and pulled a disgusted expression as he looked at it.

"Stop it!" Hermione squeaked, and she snatched her arm away from him.

"Sorry," Ron said quietly. And then he did something that shocked her. He grabbed her arm and placed a light kiss over the scar.

Hermione's breath hitched. This didn't compare to the attention Ron would pay to her scar later in their relationship. He'd spend minutes at a time brushing his lips against it, kissing each letter tenderly, making her understand that what had happened to her was okay, and he didn't love her any less for being damaged and scarred. He would spend so much time kissing it to prove to her that he loved her all the more for her scary dreams and the fact that she sometimes had a hard time wearing short sleeves.

No, this was nothing compared to that. This was a peck, not a series of sensual grazes. This was the kiss a mother would give her child's scraped knee. Tender, but quick. Still, it made Hermione's heart thump wildly in her chest. It was the first time Ron's lips had been anywhere near her body. She'd kissed him on the cheek once, but it had been in a hall full of people, and she'd kissed Harry's cheek right before that. That barely counted as a kiss. This was romantic. This was her going to him in her time of need and him rising to the call of duty. Above the call of duty, really. Because it was more than friendship, wasn't it? Yes, it was a relatively prudish peck, but she knew for a fact that Harry wouldn't show her this kind of attention. This was her first sneak peak to the Ron that was to come, the man that she would fall in love with and trust for the rest of her life. The man she would give her heart and body to, and the promise of forever.

She quite liked this Ron.

"I... I... nynugh," was Hermione's extremely eloquent response, causing Ron to let out a loud laugh. Hermione clapped her hand over his mouth, and he turned red. "C'mon," she whispered, pulling him up, and together they exited the house.

If the inside of Shell Cottage was beautiful, it was nothing compared to the outside. This was the most glorious place Hermione had ever seen, far more beautiful than any other setting in the world. The cottage was sunny and cozy, but the outdoors was big and never ending. There was sand everywhere, and she could see Dobby's grave in the distance. At the sight, her heart to dropped into her stomach just a little bit. The best part of Shell Cottage was the ocean. Hermione led Ron over to a cliff so that they could look at it. Their words were sure to be drowned out by the crashing of the waves. The two of them sat, Hermione leaning into Ron slightly. After her torture, she had needed him just a little bit more. When she had heard him yelling her name, he had been her savior. Without him, Hermione was sure that she would have gone insane while Bellatrix was torturing her.

"So... you're worried about tomorrow," Ron said flatly, and Hermione nodded. "You're worried about... becoming her?" he asked, and she nodded again. "Honestly, Hermione- out of all the things that could go wrong tomorrow you're worried about becoming Bellatrix."

"Are you ridiculing me?" she asked heatedly.

Ron looked embarrassed.

"No... not really. Just trying to bring a bit of humor to the situation. I'm not good with this stuff, you know that."

"I beg to differ," Hermione told him honestly, causing him to smile blissfully.

"You have to admit, it does seem like a lesser concern to everyone else. But to you... no. It wouldn't be. It would be a much bigger deal, wouldn't it?"

"The nightmares," Hermione said, shivering. "Ron, I see her every night now, and it's horrifying to look at. I can't break from my sleep, I can only relive the pain and the fear. This time, Ron, you don't save me even though I'm screaming for you to do so. And I don't even realize I'm screaming until I've already woken up the whole damn house."

This he knew. He had been comforting her from her nightmares ever since they had started. Hermione had suggested putting up a silencing charm, but Ron had nixed this idea at once, with anger in his voice just for her suggesting it. He wouldn't know that she was having bad dreams if there was a charm, after all, and he wasn't okay with that. Not at all. He needed to save her every night, to protect her from the evil that her subconscious was inflicting on her. He knew she was embarrassed about the dreams, but he didn't give a damn. Hopefully, if the war ended and she was alright, they would go away. Somehow, though, a little piece of him doubted it. He promised that he'd always be there to save her no matter what happened. Even if he told her how he felt for her and found out that her feelings were purely platonic (which he now doubted quite a lot) he would spend all the time she needed with her, getting her over the torture and ready to move on.

"No one blames you for the nightmares, Hermione."

Really, no one did. Bill and Fleur had long since deduced what had happened to Hermione, and they had been too horrorstruck to ask questions. They had also been too tactful. Both of them knew that it would be awful for any of the trio, Luna, Ollivander, Dean, or Griphook to reveal what had happened at Malfoy Manor.

"That doesn't make it right that I keep having them. No one's getting any sleep in this house! Maybe I should-"

"No!" Ron said roughly. Hermione looked grateful. She may have claimed that she wanted to put up a silencing charm, but the honest truth was that Ron was the only good part of her nights, and she needed him there. She was strong, but she wasn't quite strong enough to do this without help. It wasn't her fault- it wasn't even a sign of weakness. It was just a fact. No one got over things like these without someone to lean on. Hermione needed Ron, and Ron needed to be there for Hermione. "Hermione, you're going to do brilliantly tomorrow."

"I won't, Ron. I'm going to blow the whole thing."

"You wo-"

"I will, of course I will! How am I supposed to act like her, Ron? She's the most vile person I've ever met or heard of, maybe worse than Voldemort, if we're really being honest. Voldemort doesn't play with his victims. He just kills them. Bellatrix... she tortured Neville's parents, she tortured _me_ , and I'm going to have to look like her and use the same bloody wand that was used to do all the horrible things she has done. That wand has killed people, Ron!  _She's_ killed people!"

"I know," he admitted. "I think for a second, when I first see you as her, I'm going to hate you. I'm going to look at you and see the woman who tortured you, and I'm literally going to want to wrap my hands around your neck and squeeze until you can't breathe anymore. And then, of course, I'm going to remember that you're Hermione. Just Hermione. And you'll sound the same and smell the same and have the same brain and the same heart. It's just the outside that changes, Hermione, not the inside. You're not going to have to torture anyone to be her. You know that, right? You won't even have to use the wand."

"That's another thing," Hermione admitted. "Ron, I'm not going to be able to stand you looking at me like I'm her. Every time I turn to you, you're going to have flashes of her torturing me, and you're going to be looking at me with such loathing on your face... I'm liable to snap just at your expression."

"I won't look at you like that, then," Ron said. "I'll prepare myself to know that she's coming, and when I see you I'll put on the same expression I do when I usually see you."

"Awe?" Hermione suggested, smirking.

Ron stared at her for a second.

"Did... did you just make a joke?" She grinned wider. "You haven't made a joke since... I can't remember the last time... you haven't joked in a really long time, Hermione."

She was healing, he was helping her heal, and in that moment it hit him so powerfully he wanted to sing.

"See, you're doing it."

"Doing what?"

"Looking at me with awe in your expression."

She seemed to be joking, but he knew she probably wasn't. He was in awe of her right then.

"I'm going to hug you now," he whispered, and then he pulled her to him again and she put her arms around his neck and surreptitiously inhaled his delicious Ron scent that was mixed with salty sea. This was bliss.

"Ron," Hermione said, pulling away slightly to look into his eyes, "tomorrow, when I'm Bellatrix, I don't want you to... touch me. At all."

"Excuse me?" Ron asked, raising both of his eyebrows.

"Don't touch me when I'm her!" Hermione begged, her voice now slightly hysterical.

"But why?" Ron inquired.

"I can't let you! I can't let you touch her! I can't have anything _you_  tainted by everything _her_ , do you understand me? I can't... you can't... we can't... _please,_ " she pleaded.

"Okay, okay," Ron said, bringing her back to him and stroking her hair, slightly alarmed at her panic. "I won't touch you."

"Or smile at me!"

"Or... smile at you..."

"Promise?"

"I promise," he said solemnly.

Her panic seemed to subside, and she let out a long breath and collapsed into his arms again.

"You promise," she sighed sleepily.

He could feel her breathing get steadier as he stroked her hair, and he buried his nose inside of it and breathed in contently.

"You did it, Ron," Hermione said suddenly.

"What do you mean?"

"You... you said you wanted to find something to do that set you apart from your brothers. That made you different and special and notable. I always said I'd help you find it... and I did. Although I always thought you were different, special and notable. But you wouldn't have believed me if I told you."

He felt euphoria sail through him as he realized how right she was. Once again, he felt like kissing her.

"Thank you," he said softly.

"Stay with me until I'm asleep?"

Ron nodded against her, and waiting until he was almost sure she'd fallen into slumber before answering.

"Anything, love. Always."

From where she was enclosed in Ron's arms, Hermione smiled exhaustedly. He never knew she heard what he said. As a matter of fact, she didn't remember it until the next time he called her love.

Yes, she quite liked this Ron. And she would quite like him for the rest of her life.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because sometimes, to fall asleep, all you need is your best friend. Your boyfriend. Your fiancee. Your wife. Your soul mate. A collection of 30 moments in a lifetime during which Ron and Hermione just couldn't fall asleep.

**Chapter Eighteen**   
_Still May: 1998_

The pain didn't stop. It was too constant, too much to bear. She couldn't handle the hurt, even though she knew she should be able to. She was strong and she was confident. She was Hermione Granger, seemingly invincible. The smart part of the golden trio who had helped bring about Voldemort's defeat. But it was everywhere, the war. And she only needed the one thing that she couldn't have. So Hermione did a very stupid thing. She left. She ran away from the Burrow, Apparated to a certain spot, and plopped herself down. And as she curled into a ball, there was only one thing on her mind.

" _Come find me, Ron. I need you. Come find me, because only you know how."_

ooo

He hadn't spoken to anyone in days. Ron wondered if there really was a world full of people just beyond his bedroom door, or if the world had shrunken into something that constituted only of him and his pain. Probably the latter. He hadn't heard or seen any signs of other life in such a long time. He pondered why this was. Was it because the other people in the world were grieving just as much as he was? Perhaps they couldn't come find him, come get him out of his stupor, because they were busy dealing with their own things. For some reason, the thought had never occurred to Ron. For weeks he had shut himself up in his room, spending all of his time sleeping only to be woken up by his own screams and tears pouring down his face. He'd concentrated on how weak he felt, locked up in his room and in his mind. He hadn't thought about his mum, or George, or Harry.

And now he felt extremely selfish.

It was as if he'd been in some sort of dementor-induced coma. He relived the scariest parts of the battle. He pictured Nagini advancing on him and Hermione before the retched snake got her head cut off by none other than Neville Longbottom. He pictured dead Harry lying in the arms of a weeping Hagrid. He pictured the Sorting Hat on fire on Neville's head. He saw the dead body of his older brother and the grief stricken face of his other brother. The face that looked exactly like Fred's. The  _reminder._  Surely George had to know how hard it was to see his face, to hear his voice. Surely it was difficult for him to hear his own sobs, to look in the mirror. That was probably why George had not agreed to come back to the Burrow with them. He had vanished to somewhere, leaving all the Weasleys to wonder how he was coping. Where he was coping. And then, now that Ron thought about it, Harry was probably experiencing guilt for being a murderer, and Ginny was probably trying to help him through it, and Bill and Fleur were probably thanking their lucky stars that they weren't Remus and Tonks. Ron laughed bitterly. How cruel the world was that the couple that had a child got taken away instead of the childless couple. Bill and Fleur were very lucky indeed. Teddy, however, was not. But he'd have Harry and Ginny and Ron and Hermione.

Ron had barely thought about her in all the days he had been in his unhappy little bubble. He couldn't, because she would have burst through and made him happy, and he couldn't let that happen. But... she had kissed him. Had she kissed him? Yes, she had, she'd flown at him when he'd started going on about House Elves, and he'd never felt more bliss than when her lips slammed into his. She was bossy even when she snogged him. He loved it. He loved everything about that moment, which was why he hadn't let himself think about it in the time that had passed. Everything about it had been right, right, right. Except for the time. Their first kisses- and maybe all the kisses afterward- would always have the faint taste of war on it.

No, the time could not have been more wrong, and he couldn't help but loathe Hermione for bringing him such passion and euphoria, such a bright light at the end of the tunnel. He  _needed_  everything to go black again- he needed to waste away. Fred was gone, gone forever. But Ron couldn't waste away, because kissing Hermione had brought him a future, and he needed to find that future and get it for himself. One day, he'd have to go past the door of his bedroom, and that day his life would start. So when would that be? As of now, he hoped never. The idea of being happy again was despicable. How could he be happy in a world that lacked Fred? How could Ron grow up, get a job, marry Hermione and bring children into the world with her when he hated life? He hated this life, hated what it did to people, and couldn't stand the idea of purposefully bringing someone into it.

Yet he could still remember the taste of her lower lip as his tongue brushed against it. It had tasted like smoke, but there was still a faint bit of Hermione discernible under the taste of war. He could remember everything he had felt in that emotion-heightened moment. He could remember how he'd felt during the entire war, as a matter of fact. He had felt so alive then, and at the time he had thought it was because he was probably about to die. Hermione kissing him had made his senses so alive, and he realized that this might be what kept him fighting so well. He might not still be here had she not kissed him. One kiss could have saved his life. Afterwards, he was so alert.

He understood why she'd done it, as angry as it made him. He knew just what Hermione had been thinking in that moment, because he'd been thinking it too.

" _I just impersonated Bellatrix, and rode a dragon, and I got rid of a Horcrux. May as well just snog Ron, because the two of us are probably going to kick the bucket."_

_"I just watched the girl I fancy impersonate the woman who tortured her without strangling her. I've destroyed a Horcrux and ridden a dragon. Might as well save the House-Elves, make Hermione happy... bloody hell, is she snogging me? Well, I'm probably about to die in my attempt to make sure she doesn't, so I may as well show her how much I care about her."_

Ron still remembered Harry's voice interrupting their moment. It made him want to strangle the boy. Honestly, Harry was  _always_  there! He was probably going to prevent Ron from getting any sex in his lifetime.

That is, if Ron ever decided to leave his bedroom.

He wasn't sure he wanted to return to the world just yet. A glance outside the window told him that it was dark. It seemed fitting to Ron that the first time in ages he looked outside of his window it was night. It looked to be about one o'clock in the morning. Judging by the sky, it seemed to him that it was about to start raining. Ron grimaced. How ironic. He was thinking about returning to the world, and it was raining. This just proved to him that he didn't want to go back. Why would he want to go back, anyways? Why would he want to go back to a completely broken universe? This wasn't the world that he knew. This was a little something called hell. The school needed to be rebuilt. The hospitals were full of wounded Muggleborns and plenty of the people who had fought in the war. Ron was sure that the Aurors had their work cut out for them trying to get all the Death Eaters rounded up. It seemed like a great job to him. Just desserts, really. He knew Harry would want to help. Ron didn't know what he wanted, really. Mostly, he wanted rest, relaxation, and happiness. He wanted to take a forgetfulness potion and live in oblivion for a while. That would be a beautiful thing.

Ron was still exhausted, as much as he tried to ignore it. He wasn't sleeping well, in spite of all the time he spent sleeping. His dreams kept him good as wide awake, and they scared the living hell out of him. He woke up sweating, swearing, screaming and wondering if they were still back in the tent or on the battlegrounds. He had to remind himself of his name, his age, and the fact that everyone was just as safe as they had been before the war started. Which wasn't saying much. Ever since he was eleven, the war had been a dominant issue in his life. Ron had heard about Voldemort coming back from Harry even in first year, and it had always been a fear in his mind. That said, he couldn't really remember a Voldemort-less time, and he wasn't sure how it was to feel safe.

He still had an anxious lump in his stomach, and he had to remind himself to ease the tension in his shoulders constantly. His wand was never far away from him, and he literally needed to hurt himself sometimes to wake himself up from his dreams about Hermione being tortured. He hadn't faced a boggart in years, but he knew without a doubt what his would be. Gone were the silly schoolboy fears and the pointless schoolboy crushes. He was a man in love now, and he wasn't afraid of a giant spider anymore. He was afraid that the woman he had feelings for would get hurt again. He had learned a short time ago that the hardest thing that would ever happen to him would be to hear Hermione screaming like that. When you love someone, you never want him or her to get hurt. All Ron could think about was how to save her, but he'd had no way to do it.

It still haunted him. The idea that something even worse could have happened to her had he not been there scared him everyday. If he hadn't left, this never would have happened, but if he hadn't come back he was sure it could have been worse, too. Everything had been forgotten in light of the fact that Ron needed to save Hermione. That was it. For that space of time, she'd been his world, and all he'd needed to do was get her out of there. As it was, he hadn't seen the Mudblood scar in weeks, and it still made his blood boil in anger.

"Ron? RON! We need your help!" said a panicked voice. Harry. Ron's eyes opened.

"Go away," he muttered into his pillow.

He wasn't done being selfish yet.

Harry banged on the door with his fists and with his feet. He roared Ron's name a few more times, and it came to Ron that this might be an actually emergency. No, probably not. His mum was probably crying for him or something. Harry tended to overreact to everything.

"Ron, if you don't open the door right this second-"

"Not now!" Ron said angrily.

There was a pause.

"Ron, Hermione's gone."

"WHAT?" He stood up and bolted to the door. Harry looked at him, worried to an alarming extent. He didn't at all seem surprised to see that Ron had thrown his door open only for this. Harry had known that if anyone were to get Ron out of his stupor, it would be Hermione. The young man just hadn't expected it to happen exactly like this.

"We've searched everywhere for her, but she's just... gone. No note, no nothing."

"Do you think she was kidnapped?"

"No, the wards are too strong. She'd have to have left herself."

"How long has she been gone?" he demanded.

"Since lunch."

"It's this late and you didn't tell me?" Ron roared.

"I thought I could handle it."

"Where have you looked?" Ron asked desperately.

"Diagon Alley, all over your yard and house, her parents', Hogsmeade, Hogwarts, The Leaky Cauldron, even the Forest of Dean."

No, no, none of those things sounded right. Ron furrowed his brow, thinking. It came to him so fast he wondered why he hadn't seen it before.

"I know where she is," he murmured.

"Where?" Harry asked pleadingly. "Ron, tell me now!"

"No," Ron said, shaking his head. "No, it's got to be me."

He wasn't ready to leave his room, no. But he'd told Hermione he would do anything for her, and he hadn't been lying. He'd just have to grasp the future a little bit earlier than he'd intended. In that moment, Ron knew what would happen. He'd help George reopen the shop. He'd actually be there for his mum when she needed a cry. He'd listen to Harry's crap about the war, tell him that everything was fine. He'd tinker around the shed with his father when he was asked. He would find Hermione and he would always, always be there for her.

Without another word, Ron stumbled down the stairs, grabbed his jacket and hurtled himself out of the house.

ooo

She was soaked to the bone. Curled up into a ball and shivering, Hermione let the tears drip down her face as she waited. But she knew he'd find her. He had to find her. She felt as though her life depended on it. She wanted to get up and leave, go home. But there was a little part of her that enjoyed being so helpless. She'd been living on her own devices for far too long. Hermione had to let go. She had to wait for him to save her.

He had to save her.

It happened so fast. One minute she was dripping wet, feeling the rain pour down all around her and yet barely registering it. The next, a familiar scent had taken over everything as she felt him wrap his jacket around her and clutch her to his body.

"You're here," she whispered dazedly.

"You're safe," he gasped over and over again. "You're fine, you're safe, I found you."

He rocked the two of them back in forth and covered her face and lips with kisses, needing to make sure that she was quite alright.

"I knew you could find me," she sighed happily.

"I'll always find you," he promised. "Although it wasn't too hard this time. I remembered what you'd said. 'Even this place is wonderful... it reminds me that there's beauty in the world even in the darkest of times. You picked the perfect area to find peace and quiet and content.' And that's what you want now, isn't it?"

She gaped at him.

"You memorized all those words?"

"I've memorized a lot of things you've said," Ron admitted, and Hermione beamed up at him.

"Why?" she inquired.

"Because I fancy the hell out of you," came Ron's scratchy voice.

"Magnificent," Hermione whispered.

"Why?"

"Because I fancy the hell out of you too."

And it was so simple to say it now. Ron leaned down and kissed her again. Hermione pulled back, feeling ludicrously giddy.

"It's raining," she giggled.

Ron laughed a very low, deep laugh at the way she'd said it.

"You never giggle."

"You never kiss me."

"Touché."

Suddenly, her smile dropped.

"Are you going to be okay now?" Hermione whispered.

"No," Ron said honestly. "I think it will take a while, Hermione."

"I'll help you," she said decisively. "And you'll help me."

"Sounds wonderful."

Hermione paused, thinking.

"I have to go to Australia. Will you come with me?"

"Of course," he nodded. "I told you I would, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did."

Suddenly, Hermione's eyes went downward.

"What is it?"

"I... I won't be an honorary Weasley anymore once my parents have their memories back."

Ron wanted to tell her that he fully intended to make her a full-fledged Weasley one day, but decided that it was not the time.

"I beg to differ," he told her instead.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.

In response, he grabbed her hand and helped her stand up. He held onto her very securely as he whispered where he wanted to go, and she obligingly Apparated, rain spinning around their feet as she turned. They came to the Burrow, and the two of them quickly found their way to the door. Ron opened it for Hermione, causing her to flush pleasurably. She barely had time to thank him before someone hurtled themselves at her and was squeezing her in a very tight hug.

"Don't you ever scare us like that again!" Mrs. Weasley admonished, tears pouring from her eyes. She waved her wand and dried both Hermione and Ron in an instant, causing Hermione to beam brilliantly. "Hermione, I'm so glad you're safe, I was so worried, oh...  _Merlin_!"

Ron wrapped his arms around Hermione's shoulders as soon as Mrs. Weasley had released her, causing his mum to let out a fresh bout of tears. Ron bent down to whisper in Hermione's ear as Mrs. Weasley turned around to sob into Mr. Weasley's shoulder.

"She loves like you're a Weasley. Can you see that now?"

Hermione looked up at him with the silly grin still plastered onto her face.

"Are you two... together now?" Mrs. Weasley asked suddenly. Hermione looked alarmed, as did Ron. He looked down at her.

"Er- are we?"

"I don't know... are we?"

"Oh, good God," Harry said, banging his head on the table. "Spit it out, ONE OF YOU!"

"What do you want to be?" Ron asked Hermione in a whisper.

"Whatever you want to be. What do you want to be?" she whispered back.

And he supposed that, seeing as she'd kissed him first, it was probably a good idea for him to initiate this.

"Yours. I want to be yours. I want to be with you."

"Mine," Hermione agreed. "And I'll be yours, if that's quite alright with you."

Ron bent down to kiss her squarely on the lips. Harry made a face.

"I'm never going to get used to this, am I?"

"You're going to have to, mate," Ron told him, less than sympathetic. "I don't plan to ever let her go."


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because sometimes, to fall asleep, all you need is your best friend. Your boyfriend. Your fiancee. Your wife. Your soul mate. A collection of 30 moments in a lifetime during which Ron and Hermione just couldn't fall asleep.

**Chapter Nineteen**   
_June: 1998_

She was screaming again. Of course, by now Ron supposed that he should have been accustomed to Hermione screaming. But he wasn't- not really. He didn't think he'd ever quite get used to the way she thrashed around in her sleep, locked in some kind of horrific nightmare. When you felt the way Ron felt for Hermione, the worst thing in the world was hearing her scream. It was worse than anything else, more painful than the entire universe collapsing onto your shoulders. Because the idea of her hurting was more than he could bear. And he desperately wished he could take away the nightmares; he'd do anything. It wasn't like he didn't have his own issues- in the bit of time they'd been together-a little over a month- he'd broken down and cried several times. She'd always been there to cry with him. In turn, he'd been there for the dreams, the many, many dreams. He wondered where she was this time, who she was with, what was happening. Ron had a feeling he'd find out rather soon. Hermione was rather vocal when it came to her bad dreams. Along with screaming, there was twitching, shaking, and talking.

"Mione? Hermione? You've got to wake up, sweetheart."

She kept on screaming. Ron shook her a bit, to no avail. He groaned and hid his head in his hands, drawing his sheet-covered knees up to his chest. It looked like he was going to have to wait this one out. Those were the worst kind of Hermione's nightmares, the ones he couldn't stop. It was bad enough that he had to share the damn bed with her in the first place, because that made his mind wander, which wasn't good. But even worse was the way Hermione's shirt would ride up... up... up when she was twisting around from her nightmares.

 _Do_ not _think about that, you randy bugger. Your chances of getting laid tonight are as little as the Chudley Cannons finishing first in the league this season. And your freaking girlfriend is having a nightmare, you insensitive prick. Focus, Weasley, focus._

"NO! STOP! PLEASE, PLEASE STOP!"

"Wake up! Wake up! Please, please wake up."

"IT'S A FAKE! I DIDN'T TAKE ANYTHING! PLEASE!"

"Come on, Hermione!" Ron pleaded. "It's only a dream."

She screamed again, just as if she was being tortured.

"RON! RON, HELP! ROOOON!"

"HERMIONE!" he begged. "C'mon, wake up!"

"NO! DON'T HURT HIM! DON'T... RON, RUN!"

"I'm right here, Hermione! It's all over!"

"STOP! KILL ME INSTEAD!"

"Bloody hell, Hermione, wake up!"

"PLEASE! LET ME TELL HIM HOW I FEEL! HURT ME INSTEAD! I BEG YOU, LET HIM GO! I'M THE MUDBLOOD, NOT HIM!  _PLEASE_!"

He felt like something cold had just plunged itself into his body at her words. Had she really just said that? It was mental. But Ron didn't have time to dwell on it. With a heart-wrenching gasp, Hermione sat up straight. She let out a little groan, then her eyes found Ron and she turned into him, sobbing loudly.

"Shhhh," he said, stroking her hair, his expression horror-struck.

"I'm s-sorry," she cried, fisting her hands into his shirt. "D-did I w-wake you up?"

"Merlin's pants, Hermione," Ron sighed, kissing the top of her head. "All that and you're concerned about waking me up? Is there something wrong with you?"

Hermione cracked a smile.

"Several things, really."

Ron rolled his eyes, wiping away her tears with his thumb, forcing her to look up at him.

"You're perfect," he told her, emotion rushing into him as an aftermath of the dream. "At least for me. However-"

"Oh, here it goes!" Hermione said, throwing her arms up into the air. "There's always a 'but' type word, isn't there?"

He could tell she was gearing herself up for a fight. Strangely enough, he didn't really feel like having one.

"Don't look disappointed!" Ron warned. "I still think you're perfect, that wasn't what the 'but' was about."

She seemed a bit happier at this. Ron gave himself a point on his mental scoreboard for saying something romantic that didn't accidentally make Hermione start to bicker with him or feel bad about herself.

"Thanks," she said, snuggling closer to him. Her heart started pounding a bit harder in her chest as she inhaled the scent of his body. Why did Ron always smell good? With the obvious exception of after Quidditch practice, of course. But even after months on the run, he'd managed to keep that guy scent that made her woozy. It was actually quite unfair.

"There's still a but," Ron warned her.

"Tell me what it is then," Hermione suggested.

"I think you should... take a dreamless sleep potion."

"Already tried it- doesn't work."

He had known this. He had known this, of course, but he had chickened out on saying what he really needed to say at the very last minute. But he had to. He owed it to her to give her his opinion, even if it meant that he was probably going to pay for it.

"Okay, then..."

Hermione peered at him closely.

"Ron, what is it?"

"You're not going to like it."

"Just do it."

"I think you should talk to someone about your dreams."

For a second, she seemed to stiffen. Then she pulled away from him as though he was something poisonous.

"Someone besides you, do you mean?" she asked hesitantly.

"Yeah."

"No," she replied. It was so instant Ron grew defensive.

"Hermione, obviously you can't go on like this. I mean, we're supposed to be finding your parents, but you're half asleep and even though we located them three days ago you keep putting off going to see them because you're afraid you'll be too tired and muck the spell up."

"That's not true!" Hermione argued. "I'm just... not ready to see them."

"Oh, please," Ron snorted. "That's not true, and you know it. You need to talk to someone about these dreams, Hermione. Get help."

She scooted away from him, got up off the bed so she wouldn't have to be near him.

"I don't need help!" said Hermione in a rather shrill tone, visibly bristling at her boyfriend.

"I strongly disagree," Ron replied. His tone had taken on a commanding form. It was deeper and more intimidating. Hermione felt her body react to it, taking on both anger and a bit of pride. He'd grown up so well, so strong. Not that she'd ever expected any less of him.

"What do you expect me to do, Ron?" Hermione shouted. "Do you expect me to go to some professional I don't know and talk to them about things they would never, ever understand? Do you expect me to submit myself to the mental ward at St. Mungo's so that they can run tests on me and figure out what's wrong with my subconscious?"

"No! I don't know... maybe! All I know is that you can't keep going on like this...  _I_ can't keep going on like this. I  _dread_  going to sleep because I know that you're going to be having a nightmare right next to me and sometimes I can't wake you up and-"

"Maybe you should stop sleeping next to me then," Hermione suggested coldly.

"Oh, Mione, it's not like that," Ron promised her. "I don't think I could sleep without you next to me, anyways. Not anymore."

_Not ever again._

"I could put a silencing charm on you, or-"

"Do you know how bad she messed you up?"

There was a long pause as these words registered with Hermione.

" _What?_ " she hissed, and Ron knew he was treading on dangerous water. He sat up straighter, kneeling on the bed so that he could look her straight in the eye in her standing position.

"Every night, you say the same things. You beg for me to save you, and then you try to save me, as though her torturing me is harder than her torturing you. But you know what you always say? Do you know what you say every single time you have one of those bloody nightmares?"

"No," she whispered, crossing her arms defensively over her chest. She looked rather alarmed. He knew he was getting to her.

"'I'm the mudblood, not him'. Every damn night, Hermione."

"So?"

"So? SO? Bloody hell, Hermione, do you know how messed up that is? It's as if you think I'm somehow worth more than you because I'm pureblood. It's sick!"

"Obviously I say it to appease her!" Hermione said, avoiding Ron's eyes. "It's not as though I actually think that."

"This is your subconscious talking. Every night the same thing, and you aren't even speaking to her. You know that. It's as if you really believe it, Hermione! It's as if you internalized everything you found out during the war and took it all to heart. Everything we fought to shoot down... it's as if you believe it! I don't know what makes you do it. Did... did  _I_ do something that made you think I was better because I was pureblood?"

"Oh, no, of course not!" Hermione said quickly. "It wasn't you, it was the..."

"The what?" Ron demanded.

"The locket," Hermione muttered. Ron swore very loudly and very strongly. "It always said that... that I wasn't good enough for you. That I wasn't good enough to have your children because they would be half blood, and I would be ruining the Weasleys by  _making_  you be with me. Whenever I wore it, I would have dreams about you rejecting me because you didn't want my blood staining your family tree… it was  _awful_. My future with you used to be the only thing that could get me through, I'd imagine it when I was down, even though I knew it very well might not happen. And suddenly the locket was stealing it right away from me."

Ron took a few seconds to process the fact that Hermione daydreamed about having children with him.

"The locket is a horrible thing, Hermione. A liar and a-"

"I know that," she said quickly. "I know that now, I think. I just... I must have internalized it, and now I can't get the idea that I'm not worth you out of my head."

"I'm so sorry," he told her. "I know what that locket can do... what it did to me..."

But he froze up. He still couldn't talk about it.

"Not yet?" Hermione suggested.

"Sorry," Ron muttered, and for a fleeting second he looked like a scared little boy, drawing his knees to his chest and shivering weakly at the mere memory of his torturer. "Someday soon, Hermione... I swear to you."

"It doesn't matter," Hermione said quietly.

"But, you see, this is exactly why you should go to Mungo's!" Ron insisted suddenly.

"Oh, not that again," Hermione complained. "It's not happening, Ron, so leave it if you know what's good for you."

"Hermione, I really-"

"-don't understand what's happening to me, so leave me alone."

"I know what this is doing to you! You're always tired, you hate the nights just as much as I do, you have to have me next to you or else you're incapable of falling asleep. You're not as happy as you deserve to be... you deserve so much better."

"Don't tell me what I deserve. I know what I deserve. I deserve a boyfriend who doesn't keep telling me to go see a shrink," Hermione snapped.

"Hermione, I only want what's best for you, and I think you need this!" he insisted.

"Talking to someone about the war would not be what's best for me!" yelled Hermione.

"But you can't know that because you're not even willing to try."

"I would have thought you, Ron, of all people, would understand why I'm not willing to do that."

"I do understand, but I, unlike you, can see the pros along with the cons-"

"The other person wouldn't understand!"

"SO WHAT?" he roared, now reaching his breaking point.

"IT WOULD KILL ME TO TALK ABOUT IT!"

"IT WOULD NOT! YOU'D GET THROUGH AND YOU'D HAVE ME!"

"NO, YOU'RE WRONG, YOU'RE LYING!" Hermione shrieked. It suddenly hit Ron just how frightened she was at this prospect.

"I'M NOT LYING! I KNOW THIS WOULD BE GOOD FOR YOU BECAUSE I LOVE YOU AND I UNDERSTAND YOU BETTER THAN ANYONE ELSE!"

"WELL I LOVE YOU TOO, BUT WHAT YOU NEED TO KNOW IS... hang on." she paused in the middle of her sentence, and her eyes narrowed in confusion. "Have we... have we said that before?"

Judging from the amazed look on Ron's face, she guessed that they hadn't.

"Bloody hell," he said, and suddenly his face broke into the widest of smiles. "You love me!"

"You love  _me_!" Hermione squeaked.

She lunged onto the bed and at Ron, landing on top of him as she kissed him fervently on the mouth. His arms tightened around her as they snogged furiously, fight completely forgotten.

"Bloody hell," he moaned again after she had pulled back, scraping his bottom lip with her teeth as she went.

"Ron," she said breathlessly. "In light of what just happened-"

"You mean a completely accidental declaration of love?"

"Yes," Hermione beamed.

"In light of that...?"

"I think we should... you know."

Ron stared at her blankly, watching as her cheeks reddened but not quite understanding why.

"Y-you know? What the hell is you know?"

"Oh...  _you know_."

His eyes widened and his eyebrows raised.

"Oh. Oh, you mean... you  _know_."

"Right, yeah!"

He frowned.

"Er- you want to... you know?"

"I mean, I think it's about time we you know'd, to be honest. It's seven years in coming. And I obviously wouldn't be asking if I didn't want to... you know."

"Don't you think that now isn't really the right time to... you know?"

"What's wrong about it? We're in a nice hotel room in a foreign country with absolutely no siblings or parents or best friends or Voldemorts to interrupted us. I'd say it's a pretty damn perfect time to you know, as a matter of fact." Suddenly, her expression turned panicked. "Wait, do you not want to?"

Ron rolled his eyes, experiencing both frustrated and amused feelings towards his girlfriend.

"I'm a man. Does that answer your question?"

"No, but  _that_  does," Hermione smirked, pointing.

Ron turned red.

"Yeah, well, that can't really be helped."

She kissed him hungrily in response.

"Wait... so are we going to...  _you know_?" Hermione asked breathlessly, pulling back.

"Yep, I'd say we are," Ron breathed as he tugged her shirt off.

"Good," Hermione sighed happily, attacking his lips again.

"Mione," Ron said as he started planting little kisses on her neck.

"Mhmmm?"

"Does the fact that we still call it 'you know' mean we're not ready for... well, you know."

"Yes, probably," Hermione admitted.

For the first time, it was rather awkward. She pulled back with puffy hair, swollen lips, a bright red face and a frazzled expression. They stared at each other for a second.

"I still love you, though," Ron laughed.

"Oh, I love you too," Hermione smiled, leaning in to kiss him tenderly on the lips. One brush and that familiar frenzied passion was back. "Ron," she said. "Sex."

"Huh?"

"Let's have sex. Not... you know. Just sex."

"Hey, we found the loophole!" he cheered. "SEX!"

Hermione chuckled.

"They don't call me the smartest witch of her age for nothing."

That season, the Chudley Cannons finished at the top of the league.


	20. Chapter Twenty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because sometimes, to fall asleep, all you need is your best friend. Your boyfriend. Your fiancee. Your wife. Your soul mate. A collection of 30 moments in a lifetime during which Ron and Hermione just couldn't fall asleep.

**Chapter Twenty**   
_December: 1998_

If there was one place Hermione loved to be during the holidays, it was the Weasley household. She enjoyed everything about it- the festive air that never could seem to be replicated anywhere else. The laughter which could be heard all the way through the Burrow. The delicious scent of things baking in the oven. The decorations that were absolutely everywhere, all homemade and all full of sentiment. This place was so much homier than Hermione's own house. And while she loved her parents, she was starting to find that she always felt so much more at home wherever Ron was. It didn't matter if she actually lived in the place. As long as her boyfriend was there, a part of Hermione felt safe and content. Ron was very welcome at the Granger household, of course. But it wasn't quite the same. The conversations weren't as joyful, the teasing nonexistent, and the secret places to snog even harder to come by, believe it or not. Hermione's house had fewer nooks and crannies, and with so few people around it was harder just to go off somewhere and disappear into the crowd. Hermione's parents would certainly notice that their daughter had vanished off somewhere with her boyfriend, and she was reasonably certain that they'd figure out what the two of them were up to.

But now it was New Years Eve and Hermione was spending her first night at the Burrow in the whole entire vacation. Ron was absolutely thrilled to see her- he had literally run to the portkey, swooped her up in his arms and was midway covering her in kisses when his family emerged from the house to say hello. It was a mark of how broken George still was that he didn't catcall or tell them to get a room. Ginny did it for him. Ron had set Hermione down after hearing the approach of his family, but he hadn't been able to stop grinning since then. He almost had, until he suddenly realized that Hermione had picked up habits of playing with the necklace he'd given her for her birthday, and he'd started grinning all over again.

The necklace was an elegant silver key placed on a delicate silver chain. In the center was a small sapphire, Hermione's birthstone and the color of Ron's eyes. She loved it because, other than that, there was no significance in the key. It was just a gorgeous, old looking necklace that suited her style perfectly. It was so very simple but still made a statement. The best part about it, though, was the lack of their past in it. They didn't have any history with keys- no inside jokes, no Voldemort related events, no incidents that took place in school. This was new and perfect, and they could make memories around it instead of looking at it and thinking of old painful ones. The key didn't even work in anything. Apparently Ron had gotten it from an antique store. Harry had told her this in a very sour voice, because according to him Ron had dragged him around millions of shops before seeing this necklace, much to Harry's chagrin. Hermione had put it on the second she'd registered its beauty and had loved it since then. The necklace had become a part of her body- she even showered with it on. She often reached up to play with it, digging her fingers into the grooves on the key. She had taken it off only once. During that time, she would reach up and accidentally pinch her neck, finding nothing to touch and feeling rather empty without the weight on her neck. She had not bothered to take the necklace off since, something that Ron delighted in.

"Dear, you've got to roll the dough a little neater," Mrs. Weasley said to Ginny.

"Mum, they're cookies," Ginny groaned. "Who cares if they look good as long as they taste good?"

"I care, Ginny."

"Well then why don't you do it yourself instead of preventing me from spending time with my boyfriend?" Ginny suggested grumpily.

"At least you've been with him all vacation," Hermione muttered under her breath as she rolled her dough perfectly. "I haven't seen Ron in ages."

"What are you talking about- you saw him at the train station."

Hermione shot Ginny an annoyed look.

"It's not the same."

A sudden noise caused the two girls to look up. Ron and Harry had apparently finished playing chess and were walking noisily into the kitchen to talk to their girlfriends. While Harry stood next to Ginny at a respectable distance, Ron put his arms around Hermione and hugged her from behind. He took her hands in his and rolled the dough with her, dropping quick kisses onto her neck as he went.

"Hi," he murmured, causing Hermione to smile and turn slightly red.

"Yelch," Ginny complained. "Ron, get off of her, please."

"I don't hear Hermione complaining," Ron shot back.

"That's because Hermione likes being in your arms, but Hermione also doesn't think that it's appropriate to be doing this in front of your mother, Harry, and Ginny, and Hermione would love to get a room later," Hermione said under her breath.

Reluctantly, Ron let go of her. Harry looked rather relived.

"It's easy for you two, you've had all vacation," Ron said angrily. "Hermione's been at her parents' place for the whole time, and we only have a few days left."

"Ron, Hermione, if you'd like to go off into an  _adult supervised area_ , you may," Mrs. Weasley said, finally taking pity on them. "The cookies just need to be put into the oven."

"Brilliant," Ron said happily, and he kissed his mother on the cheek before removing Hermione's apron from her person and pulling her out of the room. They did not, as instructed, end up in an adult supervised area, but instead dashed up to Ron's room, where he pressed Hermione against the door and began kissing her relentlessly. Hermione tangled her hands into his hair in a successful attempt to keep herself upright- he was making her rather woozy. "I missed you," Ron moaned in her ear, and Hermione laughed.

"I think the sex is really what you missed," she said pointedly.

Ron pulled back, looking scandalized.

"I'm wounded."

"Sure you are," Hermione teased.

"How could you say that?" he asked, hand on heart in a very sarcastic gesture.

"You seem to be absolutely incapable of keeping your hands off of me unless you are playing chess."

"That's not true!" Ron argued. "What about... er... dinner?"

"Oh, right!" Hermione said lightly. "Your hands were off of me, yes. Your feet however... completely different story."

"Pffft," Ron said, rolling his eyes. "Like your feet were completely innocent in that situation."

"No, you're right, they most definitely weren't," Hermione admitted. "And I don't know if I've said this for the eighteenth time yet, but I missed you too." He leaned in for another kiss. "See!" Hermione chided. "Sex."

Ron looked completely flabbergasted.

"Fine! We can talk instead of shagging! Let's talk! What do you want to talk about?"

"Nah," Hermione breathed. "We talk all the time. Make love to me?"

Ron snorted, annoyed.

"What was this whole damn conversation about if that's what you wanted? We could be finished with the foreplay by now!"

"Not if you know what's good for you, we couldn't."

"Not the point here."

Hermione shrugged.

"I felt like teasing you. Is that a crime?"

"You're going to be the death of me, Hermione," Ron said seriously before diving in to kiss her again.

The door banged open and Percy appeared, hand held over his eyes.

"Sorry to interrupt, but mum sent me to tell you that we have an open door policy in this house, and to come downstairs for dessert."

With that, he turned around, clomping down the stairs very loudly.

"That stupid tosser... I was wrong, mum will be the death of me, not you."

Hermione laughed, her expression extremely disappointed.

"Do we really have to go down there?" she whispered.

"No," Ron growled, shutting the door with a flick of his wand.

"RONALD WEASLEY YOU GET DOWN HERE RIGHT THIS INSTANT!"

"Yeah, we do," he realized, lifting Hermione off of him. She sighed.

"Figures."

"I hate my family," Ron hissed as the two of them tromped down the stairs hand in hand.

"I  _love_ your family," Hermione said fervently, taking in the scene that lay before her as they reached the bottom landing. Weasleys were sitting everywhere in a jumble of red, blond, black and gray hair. There was talk, laughter and teasing. It wasn't like it had been over Christmas, when everyone had been unusually downtrodden for the holiday. This was joyful. This was a family that was moving on, even though Fred would never be forgotten. Even so, it had to be said that Christmas was harder than New Years Eve, and always would be.

Ron glanced over at Hermione, his face taking on that affectionate expression reserved only for her.

"And I love  _you_ ," he whispered, kissing her on the nose before pulling her into the room and pretending like he hadn't just made her heart pound about fifty times faster in her chest.

They sat down on a couch together, Hermione's head on Ron's shoulder, reveling in her ability to touch him whenever she wanted to. No one even seemed surprised when they noticed that Hermione was practically sitting in Ron's lap, her hand still entwined in his. They sat together talking with the whole family. Mr. Weasley asked Hermione how muggles went about taking photos that didn't move, while George and Ron went on a long ramble about the Chudley Cannons. At one point, Ron removed his hand from Hermione's grip only to swing it casually around her shoulders. This was around the time her thumb started making large circles over his jean-clad thigh.

It was so nice to be there, in each other's presence, but of course they both desperately longed for some alone time. Ron hadn't seen Hermione since the Christmas Hogsmeade visit, and other than that they would simply send owls back and forth. If they had time, they communicated by the floo network, but usually these were just brief stints in front of the fire. Sometimes, though, they'd have hours to sit and talk before Hermione realized she should have been studying and made Ron leave. Generally, both of them were exhausted by the end of the day. Hogwarts' seventh year was the most rigorous one yet, as everything that hadn't been taught in the past six years had to be crammed into that last one. As for Ron, he would work very late at George's shop, trying to make it all work without Fred. He'd work there before entering auror training with Harry that August. He didn't love his job at George's, but it did have some perks. Hermione had come by on the first day of her vacation, and when she had seen how good Ron was with math she'd seemed just about ready to rip his clothes off. Then again, he knew how she felt. When he'd seen her childhood bedroom for the first time at tea with the Grangers, the pure youthful Hermioneness of the room had made him want to kiss her until she became a puddle in his arms.

"Strange, isn't it?" Ron said quietly to Hermione.

"What?" she asked, ears perking to his tone and realizing that this conversation was going to be serious.

"This is a new year. This is the year after the war... the year that Fred will never live in. It seems like a new year really is a time to put it behind us, doesn't it?"

"Maybe," Hermione allowed. "But it hasn't been that long since the war. Even in a year, or two years, I doubt we'll all be completely over what has happened."

"Probably," Ron admitted. "Though it does seem horrible, that idea. And then, on the other hand, I never want to get over it."

"I know how you feel."

He turned to look at her, smiling warmly.

"Do you? I'm so glad."

Hermione yawned hugely.

"I think I should go to bed," she told Ron. He looked surprised.

"It's... it's New Years Eve, Hermione."

"Yes, I realize that, shockingly enough."

"But... it's our first New Years as a couple!" Ron said pointedly.

"And?" Hermione said.

"We have to kiss," Ron said obviously.

"Oh," Hermione said, looking amused now. "I didn't know you cared."

"Just another half hour," Ron said, eying the clock. "Please?"

"Alright," Hermione said. She rested her head on Ron's shoulder again and found herself falling asleep to the lazy lull of conversation going on around the room. A half an hour later, Ron was shaking Hermione's shoulder, looking quite exhausted himself.

"Ten," he said.

"Nine," replied Hermione, catching on instantly.

"Eight."

"Seven."

"Six."

"Five."

"Four."

"Three."

"Two..."

"One," Ron said, and then he leaned in and kissed Hermione. She pulled away as soon as he introduced tongue to the situation, but found herself completely awake afterwards.

"I love you," she reminded him, making him grin widely. Both wanted that to be the first thing they said to each other in the New Year, even if it was cheesy. Ron and Hermione both reckoned that, with all the hardship in their lives, they deserved a bit of cheese.

"Love you too."

"Now I can't go to sleep," Hermione whispered in Ron's ear. "Snogging you completely woke me up."

Ron glanced surreptitiously around the room, where the Weasleys and Harry were saying their goodnights.

"Meet me at the front door in forty five minutes," he said in an undertone.

"Why?" Hermione asked curiously. "Ron, it's freezing outside."

"I have a plan," he promised before hugging his mother goodnight as she hurtled herself towards him amidst her loud tears.

"Good," Hermione breathed.

Forty five minutes later, Hermione was dressed in a very warm outfit and waiting in front of the front door. Although she hadn't been sure exactly what to wear, she had chosen to throw her warm gray coat over the outfit she'd been wearing all evening- jeans and a sweater. To top it off, she had put on her brand new hat and glove set ala Mrs. Weasley. Hermione wondered if it was a coincidence that the color matched Ron's eyes, but she doubted it.

She had only been there for a few minutes when the front door banged open to reveal Ron. Hermione let out a surprised shriek, causing Ron to clap his hand over her mouth. Hermione stared at him for a second, then broke into a smile at the sight of his cherry red cheeks. Unable to help herself, Hermione stood up on her tip toes and kissed him right in the rosy red spot of cold. Ron turned redder yet, the heat of his blush contrasting significantly against the cold. Hermione smirked up at him, both amused and exasperated by this fact. They'd seen each other naked many times, and yet Ron still turned red when she did something pure, tender, and insignificant. It made her smile, because it showed that there was still a lot of little Ron left in bigger Ron. Hermione didn't have to miss the Ron she had met when she was eleven years old, because the parts she liked best were still in this older, wiser, and (it had to be said) handsomer version.

It was a win-win, definitely.

"Ready to go?" Ron asked breathlessly.

"That depends," Hermione replied carefully.

"On what?" asked Ron, confused.

"On where you're taking me," Hermione said pointedly.

"All in good time, Mione," Ron said cheekily, and she cocked her head at him, caught between a smile and a desperate curiosity that was clawing at her insides. "This is killing you, isn't it?"

"I don't like not knowing things."

"Even if it's a surprise?"

"Surprises are alright so long as you don't know about them beforehand. It's the secrecy that really ticks me off."

Ron nodded.

"I'll remember that for the future."

A delighted shiver passed over Hermione at Ron using the word future. Loosing Fred seemed to have given him a gift- he now knew that no time was certain and he had to realize what he wanted in his future and grab it. He most certainly was doing just that, and it gave him a sense of confidence that made him even more beautiful than he already was in Hermione's eyes.

"And what about you?" she asked.

"Hm?"

"Do you like surprises?"

Ron grinned.

"Love 'em," he told her.

"I'll remember that for the future, then."

"So," Ron said, his manner suddenly becoming businesslike, "are you up for a little walk?"

"Sure," Hermione shrugged. _I'll go wherever you lead me_ , she added silently.  _Even off a bridge, because that is how blind you make me, Ronald Weasley._

"It's going to be a bit cold at first," Ron warned her.

Hermione took in his outfit, a black coat with yellow rubber boots that looked a million years old. Perched atop his head was his brand new maroon bobble hat, and wrapped around his neck was the matching scarf. She reached up and touched the bobble for a second before laughing softly and smiling wider.

"Fine," Hermione said breezily.

"Great," Ron said warmly. "Let's go then."

He opened the door and gestured for Hermione to go through it first. She did, tiptoeing out into the winter wonderland that was the Burrow's yard. Snow fell merrily down from the sky, landing softly on Hermione's hair. She poked out a tongue to get it merely out of habit, although she never did seem able to catch those flakes. Giving it up, she admired the way the moon lighted the snow. It sparkled like a diamond, and as Ron dodged ahead of her, shooting her an adorable grin with his cheeks still red and hands shoved into his pockets (an endearing and oh-so-Ron stance), Hermione decided that this moment was more priceless than any piece of jewelry Ron would ever give her. Except perhaps an engagement ring, if that ever came. But she wasn't getting her hopes up. She was only nineteen. She wouldn't start considering marriage until at least a year away.

Oh, bloody hell, who was she kidding? She was already considering it. And... had she just thought the words bloody hell? Hermione glanced over at Ron, who was now staring at her expectantly, waiting for her to follow. Hermione quickly leaped after him, wrapping her hand around his arm as she caught up with him. As they moved through the snow, she couldn't help but take notice that Ron was carefully monitoring his steps to make sure he didn't walk too fast for her. This must have been fifteen more times harder than usual, seeing as Ron was obviously so excited he could barely contain it.

"I think I've been spending too much time with you," Hermione told him teasingly. "I just thought the words 'bloody hell'"

"Ha," Ron said, but he didn't go on after that. Which was strange, wasn't it? Usually Ron would take this opportunity to gloat about his bad influence on Hermione, or comment on the fact that she swore like a sailor in bed. Upon peering closely at his face, Hermione decided that he looked like he was going to be sick. So he was nervous about something?

"Least I haven't said it out loud by accident yet. That's always something."

"Right, yeah," Ron agreed.

Where was he taking her that would actually make him nervous?

"When I was little," Hermione said, trying to draw Ron's attention away from his nerves and over to her, "I used to pretend that the snowflakes were tiny fairies going to balls."

"Really?" Ron asked in spite of himself.

"Uh-hu," Hermione said lightly. "When you're in a muggle car and they're flying at you, they just look like a bunch of tiny white carriages flying through the air. I used to imagine the most wonderful scenarios of where they'd go and what they'd do... until I got older, lost my imagination and realized that magic doesn't exist."

Ron's lips quirked upwards.

"Of course it doesn't," he laughed. "Sometimes I think that it's kind of funny to think that you're a witch- no offense. So many muggles believe in it and never end up getting powers. I mean, I imagine little you to be so set in her ways about magic not existing, but always secretly hoping it did."

Hermione laughed shakily.

"Nailed it in the head.  _Again_."

Her boyfriend ducked his head humbly, trying not to be too proud of himself. Suddenly, upon seeing where they were, his smile faltered, and the anxious look came back. He quickened his walk subconsciously, and he gently took Hermione's hand off his arm and twisted her fingers into his own. Hermione looked around. They had been walking about ten minutes, and were at quite a good distance away from the Burrow. Even when Ron was monitoring his pace, his gait was by no means slow. It seemed to Hermione that they were in a little clearing of trees, and, now that she looked closer, she realized that something was a bit out of place. Because in the center of that little clearing was a light, tiffany blue tent that was absolutely glowing. Hermione frowned. This was a different tent than the one she, Harry, and Ron had traveled with- that had been orange. Turning around, Hermione realized that Ron was staring at her expectantly.

"Well?" he said tensely.

"Well... what?"

"What do you think?"

Hermione bit her lip.

"Er- it's lovely. Whose is it?"

Here Ron scratched his head awkwardly.

"It's sort of... yours."

"Mine?" Hermione responded, confused.

"Bill and Fleur were going to use it on their Honeymoon, but given the war they decided that they didn't really want to go anymore," Ron explained. Hermione snorted. She doubted Fleur would want to spend any time in a tent before remembering the fact that wizard tents were much nicer than muggle tents. "Well... after Fleur got pregnant she didn't want the tent anymore because she knew they'd never get to go on their Honeymoon and apparently it hurt her to look at it. So she told Bill to sell it and I was there and I asked and I... I bought it."

"You bought it?" Hermione reiterated.

"I thought... well, if you don't like it I can get you something else, like jewelry or a book or something. But I thought it could be your Christmas gift. Because, you know, we never get to see each other, and then we go to Hogsmeade and the other students are always renting out the rooms so we never get one when there's a visit to the village, and- not that I'm making assumptions or anything- but we never seem to get alone time even when I do get to visit you, so I thought this would be a perfect place to... well, it's never been used before, and we can just sit here and talk or something and..."

She shut him up with a long, passionate kiss that had him pulling back before he completely lost control out there in the cold.

"You're so smart, Ron," Hermione whispered, pressing her forehead against his.

"So you like it?" he questioned desperately.

"I love it," Hermione promised.

"Good," Ron breathed, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her closer. "I was afraid... well..."

"I know, and that's not what I thought."

"Good," he said again. "Want to see the inside?"

Hermione smiled.

"You bet your hippogriff I do."

They walked quickly to the tent. Ron deliberated for a second, then picked her up and lifted her into his arms as if he was carrying her over the threshold. Hermione delighted in his warmth and of how high it was up in his arms, but nearly rolled out of them once she had seen the inside of the tent. It was gorgeous, much more expensive than the tent Perkins had supplied for their Horcrux Hunt. The tent was made with warm colors, on contrary to the light blue of the outside. The inside was a deep scarlet red. A rich carpet lay underneath a white couch that Hermione immediately wanted to sink into. There was an equally comfortable looking armchair next to it, and a rocking chair set at the other side. The queen-sized bed had a lighter red duvet and several big, fluffy pillows. A fire roared in the back- evidently, that was what Ron had been doing before he had gone to get Hermione. There was a small, practical kitchen and a rather large bathroom, with a shower big enough for two and an equally large bathtub. Obviously, Bill's prestigious job gave him much more money than Mr. Weasley's had ever earned.

"It was for a Honeymoon originally," Ron said, turning bright red. "So... well... it's quite couply, but-"

"It's perfect," Hermione said, cutting him off. "The present I gave you fares poorly compared to this- I'm going to have to up the anti for your birthday."

She'd given him a scrapbook filled with many pictures of them together from over the years, sometimes accompanied by Harry and Ginny. She'd poured her heart, soul and time into it, yet Ron had blown her gift out of the water.

"Really?"

"Really," Hermione said. "Although I don't know why you're so concerned, Ron. We are a couple, aren't we? Shouldn't we do... couply things?"

"Yes, we should," Ron said firmly.

"Exactly," she said brightly.

Ron suddenly looked up, shooting Hermione a rather crafty look.

"So what do you wanna do, then?"

She contemplated.

"Play Battleship?"

Ron tried to mask his disappointment.

"Okay," he said. "How do you play, by the way?"

Hermione laughed a wonderfully light hearted laugh.

"I was kidding," she told him.

"Oh," Ron said, surprised.

" _Oh_ ," Hermione mimicked playfully. Then she stood up, grabbed Ron's arm and pulled him into a standing position. "Now kiss me you fool."


	21. Chapter Twenty-One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because sometimes, to fall asleep, all you need is your best friend. Your boyfriend. Your fiancee. Your wife. Your soul mate. A collection of 30 moments in a lifetime during which Ron and Hermione just couldn't fall asleep.

**Chapter Twenty-One**

_April: 1999_

"As of now, I officially hate Professor Flitwick," Ginny growled as she ferociously dotted a period into her essay. "That took about three hours!"

"At least we're done now," Hermione said soothingly. "We can go back to our dorms... go to bed... sleep for hours and hours and hours until we have to wake up, eat, and do absolutely nothing."

"Remind me again why we were working on this essay tonight? It's a Friday!"

"It's due on Monday- if we hadn't done it tonight we would have had to do it over the weekend."

"Oh, that's right," Ginny sighed. "Thanks, Hermione. I can't remember who I studied with before you came along."

Hermione laughed.

"Aw, you flatter me."

"I know I do, now let's get out of this library and go to bed."

The two girls gathered their books and hastily left the dark library, Hermione only slightly reluctantly tonight. They headed through the darkened corridors with a sense of purpose, trying to get out of them quickly. Neither could deny the fact that being at Hogwarts was harder this year, and not just academically. Everywhere they went were reminders of the war and what it had done to their world. Hermione didn't like looking around because whenever she did she'd see flashes of the final battle on the back of her eyelids, playing like a movie. Instead, as she moved through the school, she'd find other things to focus on. Distractions, really. Tonight she chose to think about Ron. Usually on weekends he was her wakeup call. She'd be lying in bed, wrapped up in the covers, and suddenly she'd hear his voice calling her name through floo powder, attempting to wake her up. Usually she responded to this, but once or twice Ron told her she hadn't woken up. He attributed this to lack of sleep. Hermione attributed it to the fact that she had been dreaming about him and hadn't been able to discern what was in her sleep and what was in the real world.

Upon reaching the Head Girls' dormitory, Hermione bade Ginny goodnight and began climbing the stairs. Anthony Goldstein, the Head Boy, was climbing the stairs to his own dorm, and Hermione waved to him as she headed up to her own section. The Head Girl and Head Boy shared a sitting room, but each had their own very small bathroom and both had their own fireplaces connected to the floo network. This had made her separation from Ron so much easier, and Hermione was infinitely grateful. Still, Hogwarts simply wasn't the same without him and Harry, and Hermione often found herself pining for the days where they would sneak through the corridors under the invisibility cloak or tease her about being too smart. Now the students were just in awe of her, which Hermione found both ridiculous and obnoxious. She had a feeling that if Ron were here he'd actually be enjoying the treatment, but then reminded herself that he was getting much of the same thing at his work in Diagon Alley.

Yawning hugely, Hermione put her hand on the doorknob to her room and entered. It was dark except for the roaring fire that a House Elf must have made. And in the center of the roaring fire was someone's head. Hermione let out a little scream and threw her books into the air in surprise, one hand searching for her wand and the other one resting on her frantically beating heart.

"Alright, I'm not  _that_  ugly," said the person in the fire, and Hermione's heart slowed slightly at the sound of his voice.

"Ron?" she questioned, moving closer.

"Who else would it be?" he asked rhetorically.

Hermione moved closer, and as she did so she was able to make out the outline of his face.

"Oh, hi," she breathed, sinking down onto the floor in front of him. "I just wasn't expecting you, that's all."

Ron looked sheepish.

"I couldn't wait for tomorrow morning, so I decided to speed up the process a little bit."

"I'm glad," Hermione said honestly. It was a long time since they'd last seen each other. As exams got closer, the Hogsmeade visits became fewer.

"So how have you been?" Ron inquired.

"Okay," Hermione told him. "Everyone's going into freak out mode over here- it's worse than O.W.L year. A little unnerving, as a matter of fact, but oh well."

"And you aren't in freak out mode?" Ron asked pointedly.

"No," Hermione said, puffing up proudly. "I've drawn a study schedule that has never failed me in the past, and I doubt it will fail me now."

"Aaaand you've already got about fifty job offers from the Ministry of Magic that will stand no matter what happens on your N.E. ," Ron teased.

"That's true," Hermione laughed. "Except, honestly, I don't think I'll be choosing to take any of those jobs if I don't do well enough on my N.E. . It would be completely unfair, wouldn't it?"

"You're barmy," Ron said admiringly.

"I know," Hermione chuckled. "That's why you love me."

"This is true."

"So how's everything at the shop? Still having trouble with the feather necklaces that turn people into birds?"

"Nope," Ron said proudly. "We got those fixed up the day after I talked to you, actually. Turns out the soothing charm on the necklace did make the boils go away. We put them on the market today."

"I'm glad I could help," Hermione said happily.

"Oh, by the way," Ron said, looking serious now, "if anybody offers you chocolates in the near future, don't take them."

"Uh... why?"

"George is insisting on this new adult product called Randy Candy. Seems to be the only thing that's keeping him happy of late, actually... not that we've eaten any or anything. But just the idea makes him snort with laughter."

"What does it do?" Hermione asked, not altogether sure she wanted to know.

Ron told her anyways.

"So just don't take any chocolate from anyone, because I'm not there to help you with that, so..."

Hermione laughed.

"I could always ask Professor Slughorn."

Ron looked completely aghast.

"Um- EW!"

Hermione burst into laughter, rolling around on the floor in the hilarity of the situation.

"I mean to brew an antidote, you idiot," she wheezed, clutching her side.

"Thank god," Ron breathed. "I don't think I ever would have been able to look at you the same way again..."

"You've got a very sick mind, darling," Hermione told him seriously.

"It's not like I made up the Randy Candies!" Ron protested. "Although it was my idea that for each one you'd have to do a different thing to-"

"Gottcha," Hermione said, effectively shutting him up. They stared at each other for a second, then burst into laughter again. "You know what's strange?"

"The fact that Harry always forgets that the bottom step of the second landing at the Burrow creaks and wakes mum up whenever he sneaks downstairs at midnight for a bite of treacle tart?"

"No..."

"The fact that you're in the same grade as Ginny?"

"No..."

"The fact that Harry sometimes moans Ginny's name in his sleep and one time I pretended to yell at him for saying Cho's name?"

"No."

"The fact that Charlie got something burned in Romania that really shouldn't have gotten burned?"

"NO!" Hermione shouted, laughing again.

"What then?" Ron asked.

Hermione frowned for a moment, then said,

"Er- I honestly can't remember anymore."

Ron snorted.

"My work here is done."

They sat there staring at each other for a couple of seconds before Hermione shook her head.

"I miss you far too much."

Ron sighed.

"I know. Me too. It seems such a waste that we never get to see each other when it wouldn't be that hard for me to get to you."

Hermione frowned, seemingly musing.

"Ron?"

"Yeah?"

"Meet me at the Whomping Willow in fifty minutes."

The expressions that flitted across Ron's face were a series of comical looks. Shock, amusement, appreciation, and disbelief were just a few of the over dramatic contortions.

"You're... you're kidding," he said when he was able to talk.

"Want to make a bet?"

"You're willing to break a school rule to see me?"

"Uh-huh."

"You're amazing," he replied fervently.

"I know. Only because you tell me, though."

"Okay, I... I should go! Do you want me to bring anything?"

"The knickers you stole from me last Hogsmeade visit?"

Ron looked pained.

"Do I have to give those back?"

Hermione sighed.

"No, fine. Just the tent, then."

"Brilliant. See you!" She stood up and brushed off her knees. Just as she found her hand hitting the light, Ron's voice made her turn around. "Hey, Hermione?"

"Yes?" she said curiously.

He looked a little nervous, and had to swallow a few times before he spoke again.

"Could... do you think you could... I was wondering if you might wear your school uniform?"

Hermione smirked.

"Really, Ron?"

"Not the outer robe!" he said hastily. "Just the skirt..."

"Oh dear god!" Hermione giggled.

"Hey! That's the stuff fantasies are made of, and this is my last chance to fulfill it. That and you sneaking up on me in the Gryffindor Quidditch changing rooms while I'm showering."

"Let's leave it at the uniform for now," Hermione suggested.

Ron gazed at her lovingly.

"Have I ever told you how much I love you?"

"Numerous times, and yet it never gets old. Love you, too, see you in a bit."

She flicked off the light and hurried down the stairs, out through the Heads' portrait hole. Silently, Hermione tiptoed along the corridors, her mind completely consumed with not getting caught. She took all the secret passageways she knew, ducked behind many tapestries to avoid Professors, and breathed a sigh of relief when she reached the front doors. They were still slightly ajar, even though the sky was inky black outside of the castle. Hermione pumped her fist quietly in celebration.

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione turned around to see Professor McGonagall coming towards her, looking rather stern.

"Oh, Professor!" Hermione said, panic taking over everything else.

"What are you doing down here?"

"Er... I was just coming to close the doors."

"Strange. I thought that was my job tonight?"

"I was... um... trying to cut you a break. You work so hard, Professor McGonagall."

"Hm," McGonagall said, surveying Hermione closely. "And how is Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger?"

"Excellent," Hermione said without thinking.

"I see."

"I... I'll just be going, then," said Hermione as her heart sunk. She turned around to go.

"Oh Miss Granger?"

Hermione turned around to see McGonagall looking at her with the stern expression slightly softened.

"Yes?"

"What will you be doing this weekend?"

"Er-"

"I expect you'll be up in your dorm studying the whole time, yes?"

"Er... yes," Hermione said, still unsure as to where this is going, but albeit having an inkling.

"So if I don't see you until Sunday at dinner, I shouldn't be worried, right?"

Hermione coughed loudly.

"N-no!"

"Good," McGonagall said loudly. She turned around and started walking away, then called over her shoulder: "Oh, and if you happen to talk to Mr. Weasley, do tell him I say hello, will you?"

"Of course," Hermione replied. "Professor, thanks," she said before she could stop herself.

"Whatever for?" McGonagall asked, raising her eyebrows.

"For... for letting me study."

McGonagall didn't say anything else, but in the years to come Hermione would swear she saw her mentor wink as she turned the corner. Breathing a sigh of relief, Hermione slipped out the doors and into the night. Almost immediately, she lit her wand, watching as the beams traced the path down to the tree. Even from a distance she could see a familiar red head there, and her heart sped up merely at the sight. Without thinking about it, Hermione broke into a run until she was right in front of Ron. She hadn't seen his actual face in such a long time, and now seeing him made her knees weak. She wanted him to wrap his arms around her and allow her to just sit there and smell him for hours. Ron shot her a large grin as she got closer, and she saw him reach forward and press his hand on the knot. The tree stopped having a temper tantrum and Hermione was able to creep forward and rush through the branches to get to her boyfriend. Upon reaching him, she tackled him into an embrace and began snogging him with everything she was worth, unable to help making little whimpering noises in the back of her throat.

"Bloody hell," Ron said as he pulled back. "You really missed me!"

His voice sounded as though he'd just trekked across a desert. Hermione smiled and reached a hand up to trace the line of his nose, then his lips, then smooth back his hair. He sighed loudly.

"Where's the tent?" she whispered into his ear.

"I set it up in a forest across from the residential district in Hogsmeade."

"Perfect," she said, and then she closed her eyes as he leaned in to kiss her again.

"Mmm, alright, let's go," Ron said, pulling away.

He took her hand and together they walked through the passageway that led to the Shrieking Shack. Neither of them much fancied going this way, as it only served to remind them of Snape's death. But, to be honest, both of them would do basically anything to be with the other. And Hermione and Ron weren't going to let the ghosts of their pasts inhibit them from living. No, they hadn't moved on from the war yet. Not even close. But if they let everything bad about their lives affect their future, they knew they would never make it. So both Ron and Hermione gritted their teeth and moved about life as though nothing bad had ever happened. Still, they moved through the tunnel in complete silence, and were rather relived upon reaching the end. They quickly stepped out of the Shrieking Shack and Ron led Hermione off towards the tent. It was set up in the woods, hidden by a large thatch of trees. Hermione smiled at it- it felt like home- and hurried inside, where she collapsed onto the armchair.

"This is a great spot, Ron," she told him.

"Thanks," he replied proudly.

Hermione looked fondly around the tent.

"Is it strange that this tent feels more like my home than any place ever has?"

Ron gave her a small smile.

"It's funny, I feel the exact same way about it."

"It's our escape as much as anything, isn't it?" Hermione mused.

"Probably. It's also... ours. Our couple place. I mean, nobody has ever been here with us. It's just ours, you know?"

"Yes, exactly," Hermione said delightedly. She hesitated, then said, "What happens after I leave Hogwarts, Ron?"

He looked rather befuddled.

"You... you get a job?"

"No, I mean-" (Hermione turned red) "With us. Forgive me for bringing this up, but... are we going to live together?

Or are we just going to-"

"Sure," Ron said easily. "We can get a flat together if you want."

He didn't tell her that this was what he'd been planning all along. That was why he had been living at the Burrow since the war. He had been saving his money to purchase a flat with Hermione.

"Really?" Hermione breathed. "You're sure?"

"Yeah, of course," Ron said, unnerved by how surprised she seemed. "You want to, right?"

"Yes!" Hermione practically shouted. "Oh, but there's so much to think about! How big do we want it to be? Where do we want it? And then that, I guess, will all depend on price limits... I mean, we want a nice place, but I haven't worked yet, and we have to think about saving money for other things like- weddings and children -stuff. But, of course, I don't mind getting an ugly flat, it really doesn't matter to me, it's our first one. It doesn't have to be beautiful or big or anything. And, oh, then we have to think about-" She suddenly noticed that Ron's face had taken on a heartbroken look that twisted Hermione's heart. "Ron, what is it?"

He looked up, unable to rearrange his facial expression.

"Er- nothing."

"Ron," Hermione said gently. "It is something. Just spit it out."

There was a pause during which Ron struggled with his words.

"I want to make this good for you," he choked out suddenly.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, and when Ron looked up at her it was with eyes completely open. Every emotion he was feeling was lying out for her to view- sadness, anger, unworthiness, self doubt, frustration and desperation.

"Everybody in my family has had to make due with second best for all their lives. Bill and Fleur never got a honeymoon. Mum and dad eloped. George and Fred had to work their business up from the ground. We all had hand-me-down clothes and hand-me-down brooms and there was never enough for anyone. I don't want you to have to go through that with me! I mean, I know you're going to do so well for yourself, and you'll be able to provide for yourself easily, but... but I want to be able to provide for you too, you know? It's a man's job, and don't think I'm being sexist, Hermione, because I'm not. Well, maybe a little. I just feel like I have to be worth something to deserve you, and I don't want anything with us to be second best. I want us to have the wedding you've always dreamed of, and an exotic, romantic honeymoon, and if our children want clothes and brooms, by God I want to give them new ones! I want you to be able to be a stay at home mum if you want to, and if you don't want to I want to be able to afford to get a nanny... I just don't want us doing what my parents did. I want- I need- everything with you to be perfect, Hermione, because if it isn't I just... ugh!"

She stared at him with her mouth hanging open for about ten minutes, watching the wetness forming in his eyes, the

heaving of his chest, and the vulnerability on his face. For a second she had to cover her face in her hands to compose herself, to get the tears away from her eyes.

"Oh, Ron," she murmured, "Oh my God, Ron."

"That all sounded ridiculous, didn't it?"

"No, no it didn't!" Hermione promised hastily. "Ron it was... it was... oh my  _God_ ," she said again.

"Just forget-"

"No," Hermione said sharply. "Ron, I will not forget you said that, because everything you said was" (she had to do it one more time) "oh my God!"

"Does that mean something different to you?" Ron snapped.

She stood up and hugged him in response, then gently lifted her lips to his mouth. Finally, she settled herself in his lap for the good, long talk they needed to have.

"Ron, it doesn't matter. There's nothing wrong with hand-me-downs. I mean, look at... Draco Malfoy. He's got everything in the world, but his relationship with his parents is less than satisfactory. They give him things as compensation for the lack of time he gets to spend with them, and he's a horrible, horrible person because of it. And then look at you. Yes, you grew up with second-hand things, but you are the most wonderful person I have ever met, so much better than Malfoy. And your relationship with your parents is so fantastic... you're close to everyone in your family. If I have a child, I want his or her relationship to be like the one you have with your father, not the one Malfoy has with his father. And, besides, who do you think is going to be a happier person, Ron? You or Malfoy?"

"Me," Ron said, "because I got you and he didn't. But that doesn't change the fact that I haven't got anything to give you."

"Do you really think that matters to me?" Hermione demanded. "I honestly couldn't care less... I just want you, Ron, because I'm in love with you and I love who you are and what you mean to me. I know you think it's your job to earn good money, but to tell you the truth, I disagree. I think part of being with someone is sharing responsibilities. I want you to do whatever makes you happy, and I'll do what makes me happy, and we aren't going to care about the money, because job satisfaction is probably more important than that."

"Seriously?" Ron said after taking a second to digest this. "That's really how you feel?"

"That's really how I feel, Ron. For richer or poorer. For better or worse."

He looked like he was going to faint, which was how Hermione felt, too. Never had they ever been so open with each other about commitment and what they wanted the future to hold. It was just that, with Hermione about to graduate, it seemed that everything was going full speed ahead, and it was hard to ignore it.

"Thank god," he whispered, kissing her.

"Ron?" Hermione said, pulling back.

"Yeah?"

"You... you really want to marry me? And have children with me?"

He looked at her like she was crazy.

"I would have thought that was obvious when I had sex with you."

Hermione's frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"Well... I suppose my parents brought me up with old-fashioned values, didn't they? Could be a pureblood thing, but... when you sleep with someone, it's because you intend to spend the rest of your life with her, isn't it?"

"S-s-so you knew, even all the way back then, that you wanted to marry me?"

Ron shrugged.

"Yeah."

"Bloody hell," Hermione said out loud for the first time in her life. "Bloody hell!"

"That's a good 'bloody hell', right?"

"Uh-huh," Hermione said, staring at him with shock still written all over her face. "Oh my God! You want to marry me! And have kids with me! Oh my God... I really didn't see this coming!"

"How did you not see this coming?"

"I don't know, I suppose I underestimated you. I figured you'd be one of those people who hated talking about this stuff, considering it took us about seven years to get together."

"Life's too short," Ron told her seriously. "If there's one thing this war's taught me, that's it."

"So how many kids do you want to have? Are we going to find out whether it's a boy or a girl before he or she is born, or will we wait? What do you want to name them? Do you think they should go to muggle school before going to Hogwarts? Will our family vacations be with Harry and Ginny, or just by ourselves? Should we have a dog or a cat? What will we name it? What are your opinions on child discipline?"

Now Ron was starting to look a little alarmed.

"Er- Hermione- I know I said I was okay with talking about commitment, but I  _am_  still a bloke."

"Sorry," Hermione said, dialing back.

"It's okay," Ron laughed. He gazed at her lovingly, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear. "I will tell you one thing, though, before we go completely off the subject."

"What?"

"Never in my life have I been so completely excited for the future."


	22. Chapter Twenty-two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because sometimes, to fall asleep, all you need is your best friend. Your boyfriend. Your fiancee. Your wife. Your soul mate. A collection of 30 moments in a lifetime during which Ron and Hermione just couldn't fall asleep.

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

_May: 2000_

He was waiting for something. What, Hermione wasn't entirely sure of, but she did know that he gave off the distinct impression that he was hesitating. All she knew was that it was 11:57, three minutes until the worst day of the year began. She and Ron were currently lying in their bed, arms around each other, while the green numbers on the digital clock glared tauntingly at them. Usually they didn't sleep like this, especially when it was so hot. But that night was a special occasion. The whole day, as a matter of fact, would basically be spent in each other's arms. They would never leave each other's side unless they had to hug or hold someone else. The need to be close was too great- in times of sadness Hermione went for Ron and Ron for Hermione (11:58). Life had been that way for a long time now. When he was missing Fred and completely lost it, Hermione was there to hold him. And when she was forced to face a boggart, Ron always slipped his arms around her shaking shoulders and rocked her back and forth. Whenever they had nightmares, they used each other to feel better. The difference was that Hermione always spoke of her nightmares and Ron never would tell her what his were about. He just asked her to tell him that she loved him, which she did quite willingly.

They had learned to depend on each other, realized that they needed each other to survive. It wasn't a happy tendency, but it was a fact. Sometimes war made someone draw further away from other people. Sometimes they needed to get closer. Ron and Hermione were the latter, so they stuck together. Always (11:59). It had harder been last year. They hadn't been able to come to each other immediately when they needed to. But time had passed. Gaping wounds had gotten slightly smaller. Hermione and Ron had gotten a flat together and become used to sleeping beside each other. There had been the tiniest of fights and dinners with family and long days at work and tense holidays with family and much snogging. It was better this way, when Ron was done with Auror training and Hermione wasn't at school. They had real opportunities to be a couple. And while they were always a work in progress, they had mostly succeeded. Except on these days, it was hard to know how to act. Because this day was not only a tragedy, but an anniversary.

12:00. Two years ago, Ron and Hermione had experienced their first kiss together. It had been the best and worst day of their lives at that point. And it still was the worst, of course. But now it wasn't the best anymore. The second of May in 1998 had been overshadowed by many wonderful memories they had made together, and since then they had experienced many 'best days'. But nothing could ever be worse than loosing Fred and Remus and Tonks and Colin. Hermione and Ron both knew that they had both already experienced the worst day of their lives, and somehow there was a sense of relief about that. It almost gave the both of them a feeling of calm, because they knew that their lives simply couldn't get any worse than it had been two years ago. And now, whatever the world threw at them, they could handle it. They would handle it, and they would handle it together. It felt so safe, being an 'us'. Hermione had never felt quite so content. She knew that it was nice to be in exactly the place you are supposed to be in at that point in your lifetime. In that light, she never could really complain about what she'd done to get there. Unfortunately, that didn't change how painful her and Ron's path had been.

He came alive suddenly, the changing of the clock seeming to shake him out of his stupor. Hermione could see tears already in his eyes and knew that whatever he was about to tell her had been tormenting him all day. Her heart stopped at the look on his face.

"Hermione, are you awake?" he whispered, even though he knew she was.

"Yes," she breathed back.

Ron turned to look at her, his nose almost touching hers, as they were lying on the same pillow. He turned away for a brief second, sitting up. And staring at the wall, he swallowed twice and then said, "It's yet."

"It's yet?" Hermione repeated, shock crossing her face as she sat up fast. "You're... you're kidding."

Whenever Ron would have dreams and Hermione would ask what they were about, his response would always be "not yet"-which led her to assume that his dreams had to do with the locket. She had resigned herself to never knowing what his nightmares were about, as Ron wouldn't tell her and never talked in his sleep. But for him to just want to come out and say it without even having to be prompted? It was so mature and unprecedented. Then again, he'd never been all that predictable. Hermione rearranged the surprise on her face and let him continue.

"Do you remember what the locket told you?" Ron asked quietly.

"Of course I do," said Hermione, stiffening a little at the mention of that horrible item even though she'd seen it coming.

"Well... it told me pretty similar things. And, Hermione, I don't know if this is going to be important anymore- not with everything that's happened in the past two years- but the fact is that it still haunts me. Maybe the fact that I'm ready to talk about it means I'm moving on a bit? I'm not sure. All I know is that the reason I left you and Harry is the locket, and I... I'm so sorry, Hermione."

He buried his head in his hands and she wrapped her arms around him, resting her chin on his shoulder as she tried to trap her emotions within instead of letting him see them. There was trepidation and fear, but also a bit of excitement. Finally he trusted her enough to tell her these things, and this made Hermione's heart leap with joy.

"I forgave you for leaving such a long time ago. You know that."

He looked up from his hands and half smiled at her.

"I don't deserve it."

"No, you probably don't. But I'm in love with you, so you getting forgiven was inevitable."

"I don't know how to say this," he admitted.

"I'll wait," she promised.

There was a long stretch of silence. Ron was shaking with nerves.

"It was you," he said finally. "My imagination of you, really. Harry, as well. And me, I guess. The opinions I had of

myself, the way other people saw me. Mum, Ginny, you... I suppose this all goes back to you."

"I made you leave?" Hermione squeaked, now feeling slightly hurt.

"No!" Ron said hurriedly. "It wasn't you, Hermione. It was my feelings for you, my fear that I wasn't... that I wasn't... good enough. And that's what the locket said to you, wasn't it? All the pureblood and muggleborn crap... well, it was wrong. I know that now. It was all wrong. But the locket made me believe what it was telling me. It made me angry all the time- constantly. And it made me hollow inside, it made me ache. Every time you looked at him or touched him I'd read into it and think that you were flirting with him. I would dream about it, about you rejecting me, and the locket would just say the same things over and over again. I wasn't handsome like Harry or smart like you. I was nothing. I should just get up and leave. You and Harry never fought, why would you want someone like me? I thought everyone- including my goddamn mother- preferred Harry to me. And it hurt like hell."

"Ron-" Hermione started to say, but he just shook his head.

"On the night I stabbed the locket, when I opened it up, I saw you. You told me I would never be good enough and then... then you kissed Harry. Something inside of me died, and- I have to admit- it wasn't reborn until you kissed me for the first time during the Final Battle. I left because I thought you wanted him, not me. I couldn't deal with it."

"How dare you?"

Hermione's gaze remained on Ron, watching the shame well up in his eyes. But a fury like she'd never known was coursing through her body, an indignation that went past anything else she had ever felt. In that moment, she couldn't stand Ron for his vulnerabilities. She knew it was cold hearted and bitchy but she honestly could feel no sympathy for him. Perhaps that would come later, after the initial shock wore off. All she knew was that she wanted to scream at Ron, to maim him somehow, whether physically or emotionally she wasn't sure yet.

"Wh-?"

"HOW DARE YOU!" Hermione yelled, leaping out of bed. "You left us because of your stupid insecurities! How dare you assume that I wanted Harry instead of you? I was dropping hints left and right, I was desperately in love with you, and all you frigging had to do was ask. How stupid could you be to let that be the reason? You abandoned us in the middle of the woods because you were letting your schoolboy insecurities get the better of you! How could any one person be so selfish? The answer was just a couple of words away!"

"What are you-?"

"Look, it's easy, I'll spell it out for you! 'Is Harry better than me, Hermione?' NO! 'Does my mum like Ginny better than me?' Absolutely not! 'Do you love me, Hermione?' Yes! See how easy that would have been? See how simple? Instead you had to up and leave me! I thought you didn't want me too, Ron, but that didn't stop me from going on. Tell me, tell me exactly what made it hard!"

She was sobbing by the end of this and he hid his face as the shame enveloped him further. In that moment, he didn't know if he'd ever hated himself more. And that was saying something. Because when she put it that way, it was easy. It was simple.

"This was stupid," he mumbled. "I shouldn't have told you."

Hermione screamed angrily again, hitting him with a pillow.

"THERE IT IS AGAIN, YOUR GODDAMN INSECURITY! CAN'T YOU SEE HOW MUCH I LOVE YOU? WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?"

"So much," he wanted to say, but found that the words were stuck in his throat.

"WHY DIDN'T WE TALK ABOUT THIS SOONER? YOU'RE A COWARD, THAT'S WHAT YOU ARE! BECAUSE YOU COULDN'T APPROACH THIS SUBJECT EVEN AFTER EVERYTHING WE'VE BEEN THROUGH! WHAT ABOUT AFTER WE SHAGGED, HMM? WHAT WERE YOU AFRAID OF THEN?"

She rarely called sex shagging, as she thought the word was too crass to describe the experience that they shared together. This, both of them knew, was meant to wound. She wasn't calling it making love, or even sex. It was shagging, and that was a fatal blow.

It happened very quickly. One minute Ron was right in front of Hermione, reacting to everything that she was saying. And the next he was gone. His expression was blank. His eyes were just staring at her face void of any emotion. He had shut himself down, let her hurt him, given up on defending himself. He was just going to let her insult him over and over again. She had broken him, and in an odd way it felt really, really good.

But then it didn't.

She slowly melted, the bland expression on his face being replaced in her minds eye by the one she'd seen just a few hours ago, laughing as she tried to do the dishes to the beat of a muggle song on her childhood radio. She saw the look on his face right before he kissed her. She saw him smirk as he walked in on her singing in the shower in the morning, lightly asking if she was taking requests. And then she saw him when he was battle worn and scared. Then, suddenly, he was returning to her, giving her that hopeful smile that would have broken her in any other situation. There he was, age seventeen, muttering her name in his sleep. And there he was at sixteen, subtly sniffing the perfume he'd given her for Christmas because he liked it so much. And fifteen, rage and jealousy on his face as he stared at her with Viktor Krum. Now he was fourteen and gazing at her with admiration and adoration after she'd punched Malfoy. And he was a second year, vomiting slugs in her honor. Then he was twelve years old, falling to the ground on his knight's horse... and suddenly they were both eleven and she could see that dirt on his nose. She brought her hand up to her mouth as his empty face hit her, so despondent, so unaware of everything that was happening in her mind.

Suddenly there was a weight as she crawled onto the bed with him. Because she'd realized it. It didn't matter what he had done to her. He was there now, so desperately in love with her, as she was with him. He'd told her he wanted to marry her, to be with her forever. He was the most wonderful boyfriend a girl could ask for, and she had to let go of the past because she wanted a future with him far too much.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she murmured over and over again. "I don't know what just got into me." She put her arms around him again and kissed him fervently. "I can't believe I reacted that way... I'm so sorry."

He came alive at her touch, surprise flitting across his face, then another bout of guilt. His throat was tight as he spoke.

"Of course you did, I deserved that. It was a stupid, superficial reason to leave you alone like that. I promised I never would."

She broke down even further, and this time it was Ron's turn to take her in his arms.

"You said you'd always be there. And th-then you were g-gone and I was so heartbroken, so lost... you promised you'd never leave me alone! And I know I said I forgave you b-but sometimes… sometimes I'm so afraid that I'm going to wake up some morning and you'll be gone!"

"Oh God," he groaned, kissing her hair. "I'm never going to leave you, Hermione. I swear on it."

"But you've said that before!" she cried. "And then you were just gone! You were gone, Ron. I n-never want to be without you again! It's too damn hard."

"I love you too much to leave you," he attempted to say, but he was doubtful as to whether she could hear this over her weeping. He remembered the look on her face just before he dissapparated away, crumpled in defeat. He had felt such a twinge of regret upon seeing that. He'd hurt her again. He'd broken her again. Just as he'd done the year before, he'd put his feelings before hers. And while he was hiding away at Bill and Fleur's, he took a lot into consideration. Was he good enough for her? Would he ever be enough for her? Could he be whom she needed? He hadn't thought so at the time. But he'd come back for her anyways, just in case somehow she decided she couldn't find anyone better than him. And then she'd gotten tortured, and Ron had realized that no one would ever be there for her the way he was. That was when he'd made the choice to put her feelings before his for the rest of his life. So far he had not regretted this. Nonetheless, Hermione's words had stung because this conversation kept bringing back that look on her face.

"I'm sorry," Hermione moaned. "You must hate me... I can't believe I reacted that way. Oh, Ron, I'm so sorry."

"I don't hate you, and stop saying you're sorry. You should hate me," he said weakly.

"I couldn't hate you," Hermione sniffled. "It takes too much energy."

"Thank god," Ron sighed.

They took a few moments to compose themselves, for Ron to gather his emotions and for Hermione to cry herself out. Having never approached the subject before, the wounds were fresher than they'd thought they would be. Apparently two years didn't heal as much as one would think. It was like the type of injury that was bad and no one attended to. It would fester, get worse, become infected. This was Ron and Hermione treating it.

"I'm sorry you had to see that and think that and dream about that, because while you were dreaming about me and Harry I was always dreaming about me and you," Hermione said after a while.

"Well," Ron said, laughing slightly, "there were those dreams, too." They looked up at each other, then simultaneously stared at the clock. "Hermione," Ron whispered, "I miss Fred."

And then the day began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that not all of you will agree with me about the way Hermione handled the situation. While it wasn't a fairytale reaction belonging to the perfect girlfriend, I think it was right for the situation. It's the anniversary of the war and she's already spending all of this time reliving what had happened. Then, Ron begins talking about something that deeply affected herself as well. She's remembering how the locket af-fected her and how it hurt her and how desolate everything had seemed, and she's re-acting badly to it. It may not be your head canon, but it is mine, and I think that the fact that she got all of her fears out on that day really helped their relationship progress to a new level after these events. I hope you understand and enjoyed the chapter. ~writergirl8


	23. Chapter Twenty-three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because sometimes, to fall asleep, all you need is your best friend. Your boyfriend. Your fiancee. Your wife. Your soul mate. A collection of 30 moments in a lifetime during which Ron and Hermione just couldn't fall asleep.

**Chapter Twenty-Three**   
_April: 2003_

She couldn't sleep. Of course she couldn't sleep. It was the night before a big meeting at work, and his girlfriend found herself completely restless, therefore resulting in hours of tossing, turning, and loud groaning. He knew her issue was about work. Hermione was going to find out if her transfer to Magical Law was going to go through the next day. He knew, of course, that there would be absolutely no problem. Try telling Hermione that, though. She immediately began arguing with him, stating every little thing that could be held against her. Never mind that he had a counter argument to every damn thing that she said. Hermione was incorrigible. Ron had long ago realized that they shared a similar lack of self-confidence. As they'd gotten older it had definitely gotten better, but every once in a while, old insecurities shone through, and Hermione and Ron became completely crippled by the fears that had plagued them as children.

The issue was, he really needed to get to sleep. And so did she. They'd already done almost everything in their power to do just that. They'd tried drinking warm milk. They'd talked about their problems. Hermione had tried to name all of the people they'd gone to school with at Hogwarts, and Ron had tried to recount his entire family tree. Nothing, absolutely nothing, worked. He looked outside the window and found that there was a full moon. A pang hit him in the stomach. Whenever he saw one he would think of Lupin, and that was never fun. He'd always found it rather creepy that Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs had died in the opposite order of the Marauder's Map. He never really liked thinking about it, but whenever he saw a hulking black dog or a full moon it was sort of inevitable; just as inevitable as being reminded of Fred when you looked at George.

"Looking at the moon?"

Ron glanced over at Hermione, whose hair was spread all around her pillow in beautiful disarray from all her tossing and turning.

"Yeah," he nodded.

Hermione gave an involuntary shiver and subconsciously fisted the sheet that was lying around her ribcage. She then dragged the sheet upwards and hugged it to her chest. Ron tried not to look disappointed, but was slightly unsuccessful, causing Hermione to laugh.

"Pig," she told him. There was a hoot from across the room and both of them turned to see Pigwideon looking at her expectantly, locked up in his cage. Hermione and Ron both burst out laughing. "Oh, not you," she chided, causing the owl's eyes to look slightly confused.

Ron sighed.

"So what do we do now?"

Hermione shrugged.

"I don't know. What do you  _want_  to do?"

He rolled his eyes.

"I don't know or I wouldn't have asked you."

"Fair point," she allowed, and they both burst out laughing.

"I just feel so awake," Ron complained, and Hermione nodded.

"I know. Me too. I hate being stuck in this bed, to be honest."

"Gee, thanks."

"Oh, it's not you. It's just... it's late and I still feel so alive, and it seems a real shame that I'm wasting this energy on lying here doing nothing."

That was when Ron made his decision.

"Let's go do something, then."

"What?"

"Anything!" he said enthusiastically, causing Hermione to laugh.

"Such as?"

"Anything," he said again. "C'mon, get dressed."

"How am I supposed to know what to dress for if I don't know where we're going?"

"Dress for what the weather is," Ron suggested, heading over to their walk-in closet. He quickly threw on a pair of jeans and a blue shirt. He added a darker blue jacket for good measure, then walked back into the bedroom, where Hermione was still stationed. "Exhibit A."

She raised her eyebrows.

"You actually match right now."

"See how thoughtful I am?"

"Mmhmmm," Hermione chuckled, and then she headed over to their closet. Once Ron was sure she was inside he opened his bedside drawer and pulled a few things out, tucking them into his pocket. "What've you got there?"

He let out a startled yelp and glanced up to see Hermione standing in her bra and knickers, looking at him oddly.

"You know, just some precautions," he told her. "My wand, my diluminator, muggle money... a map."

"A map?" Hermione said lightly. "Wow, we really are winging it."

"Uh-huh, yep," Ron said, willing her to turn around so he could stuff the last item into his pocket. She did so, heading back into the closet. She emerged a few seconds later wearing a dark red shirt, jeans, and a brown shrug that tied under her bust.

"Okay?" she asked him, and Ron nodded.

"Absolutely perfect."

"Good," Hermione said happily. The smile vanished when she looked into the mirror and saw her hair. "Ugh, this is going to take hours."

Ron poked his head into the bathroom, scrutinizing her.

"Well we're leaving in ten minutes, so do what you have to do."

Biting her lip, Hermione attempted to fix the messy hair that Ron was so apt at creating, but ended up using magic to try and make it straighter. It only worked halfway- now her hair wasn't quite as big or messy as it had been, but it was still her hair. Hermione groaned.

"I give up," she admitted to Ron, walking back into their bedroom.

"Your hair looks beautiful," he told her, kissing the top of her head. "What are you so worried about?"

She looked guilty.

"You know," she whispered to him.

Ron huffed, exasperated.

"I'm never going to think you're ugly, Hermione," he said gently, and then he took her hand in his and squeezed. "Ready to go, then?"

She smiled. "Yes."

With a twist, Ron disapparated. In a second, they had ended up at an all night diner.

"First stop," Ron said happily.

"You  _would_  think about food, love," Hermione grinned.

"Yup," Ron said, and he happily crossed the threshold of the diner. They sat themselves at the booth they usually occupied. This was a muggle restaurant a few miles outside of Hogsmeade that they had often come to when Hermione was still at Hogwarts. It had been a nice escape from the hectic atmosphere of the Wizarding World, where everybody knew who Ron and Hermione were. Just after the war, Harry, Ron and Hermione had been treated like celebrities. It had been annoying, to say the least. People took their picture, friendly and unfriendly. People wanted their autographs or to hear their story. And all they'd wanted to do was get the hell away from it all. So they did. They came here.

The diner was very casual. It was painted a light yellow color that made nobody look good, and the booths that lined the wall had comfortable red seats that you could just sink into. The whole place smelled like maple syrup, and Ron and Hermione would leave with the scent clinging to their hair and clothes until the next time they showered or changed. Soft music drifted from each of the tables, as they were all graced with jukeboxes. Ron and Hermione had learned all the songs and always brought a ton of change when they went. The waitress arrived just as Ron was putting a quarter into the box.

"Well hello there," she said brightly. "Haven't seen the two of you in a while."

"Hi," Hermione said, smiling at the familiar face. "It's been busy."

"The usual?" the waitress asked, and Hermione and Ron both nodded. "Coming right up."

They turned back to each other, beaming brilliantly. Usually they didn't come here so late at night, so it felt rather new and both of them were enjoying it.

"Do you think we ought to try something new the next time we come here?" Hermione asked. Ron looked shocked.

"How could you possibly suggest such a thing?"

Hermione giggled.

"You're right, how ludicrous."

"Mhmmm."

Ron pressed a button on the jukebox and a Shania Twain song came up.

"Oh Merlin. You're obsessed with her," Hermione teased.

"She's talented!"

"And she wears belly shirts."

"Yes, that too."

"And exactly whose bed  _have_ your boots been under, Mr. Weasley?"

"Yours, mine and ours." he said contently.

"Right answer," Hermione told him as the waitress set down the plate. Immediately, Hermione inhaled the scent of the Belgian waffles made to perfection. "Thanks," she added.

"No problem," the waitress said, pouring them both generous cups of coffee. "Call if you need me, hm?"

She walked away without waiting for an answer.

"Alright," Hermione said, turning to Ron. "Which side do you want?"

He scrutinized the two waffles lined up next to each other, then eyed his chocolate chip pancakes.

"That one," he told her, pointing.

"Damn," Hermione muttered under her breath. "Okay, then I get the bigger pancake."

"Go for it," he said, licking his lips as Hermione took a pancake off of Ron's plate and dropped one of her waffles onto his. They did this every time they came to the place. It was as much of a habit as brushing their teeth before bed.

Ron and Hermione enthusiastically tucked into their meals, talking steadily while they ate. The occasional argument on what song to get next on the jukebox came up, but mostly they were peaceful. Besides, bickering was what they did best. It was second nature, so easy and comfortable. Now they could always solve the tension with a good snog at anytime, so it was much easier to be around each other. Nothing between them was unresolved anymore, and it felt so good. In spite of everything that had happened, they'd never been more content and happy. It had been a wonderful few years, it really had.

"Our five year anniversary is almost coming up," Hermione said casually.

"Is it?" Ron said, feigning surprise. "Wow."

"Wow is right."

"That's a long time, isn't it?"

"Indeed it is."

For the first time, conversation lapsed. Hermione inspected Ron very carefully, but all she got back was an innocent stare.

"Wanna get out of here?" he said suddenly.

"Where to?" Hermione inquired, glancing down at her clean plate.

"You tell me," Ron said. She studied his expression musingly for a second, then nodded.

"Alright, I will."

Ron dropped money onto the table (Hermione surreptitiously counted it out to make sure he'd gotten it right. He had, and she noted this with a huge swell of pride) and took her hand, leading her out of the restaurant. They walked outside into the reasonably warm air, breathing in the scent of night and feeling surprised that the whole world didn't smell like syrup. Ron led Hermione over to a corner and took her hand. She thought for a second, then turned.

They ended up in a place Ron had never been before. It was a large, grassy area where an array of couples and families sat, fixated on a large screen. As Ron inhaled he could pick up the delectable perfume of grass mixed with flowers. A glance over at Hermione showed him that she was grinning broadly, eyes flitting around the park and to the screen.

"Where are we?" Ron inquired.

"We're at a park that plays films all night long. Mum and dad used to take me here on Halloween. Great, huh?"

"Yeah," Ron said fervently. "What's this?"

Hermione squinted at the screen.

"Looks like  _My Fair Lady_. It's a Muggle musical." Ron looked doubtful, but Hermione laughed. "C'mon, I love this one. It's great."

He shrugged.

"If you say so, love."

"Oh, I do."

Hoping to be surreptitious, the two of them sneaked over to a tree towards the back and sat down on the grass. Ron leaned against the trunk and Hermione seated herself in between his legs, leaning against his chest. His arms snaked around her, holding her against him, and she sighed contently. Ron was slightly confused, as they'd gotten there in the middle of the movie, but he soon caught up to the plot. A while after they got there Ron pulled out a bag of liquorice wands and started munching on them. Hermione turned around, flashing him an indignant frown.

"Want one?" Ron asked quickly. Hermione giggled- his breath smelled like the candies he was eating, and they were some of her favorites.

"Yes, please," she said, taking the sweet he was offering her. "Ron, I'm pretty sure you're the only person in the world who walks around with liquorice wands on them at all times."

"It's because I know you love them so much. And because they tide me over when I'm hungry."

Hermione's mind flashed back to days gone by when they'd sit in the common room talking about the impending doom on the Wizarding World and munching liquorice wands. Good times.

"I'm pretty sure that's what made me fall in love with you, matter of fact," Hermione whispered to him.

"Ah, liquorice wands," Ron sighed. "What can't they do?"

"Not much," Hermione said dryly. "Now shush, they're going to start singing."

Finally the movie finished. Hermione grabbed Ron's hand and they hurried to a more secluded section of the park to apparate. He was about to turn when they heard footsteps coming. Alarm crossed Hermione's face and she hissed,

"Quick, Ron, pretend we're snogging."

"No problem," he murmured before leaning in to kiss her. He pressed her back against the hedge and moved his lips against hers gently, sliding his tongue along her bottom lip. Hermione clutched onto him and sighed loudly into his mouth. The sigh... Ron's favorite sigh. Usually, in less public settings, it meant that he'd won. Here it meant that he'd have to control himself a bit more because Hermione certainly wasn't going to be doing it.

"'Scuse me!" The two of them broke apart gasping for breath. Both of them had forgotten why they'd started snogging in the first place. Ron took in the large security guard that was frowning at them while Hermione blushed furiously. "This part of the park is private property rented for weddings. You're trespassing, you are!" He spoke with a thick accent, his large neck and porky cheeks splashed with red.

"Sorry, mate," Ron said quietly.

"Sorry! Sorry isn't good enough!" said the guard. "You're in an illegal area. So unless you're getting married or-"

"Excuse me, sir?" Hermione said timidly. Ron frowned as he noticed her voice going up several octaves into a very un-Hermioneish, girlish drawl. He'd only heard it once, and that was in sixth year when she'd been divulging her information about going to the ball with Cormac McLaggen. "Um... my fiancée and I were thinking about getting married here. We wanted to check it out and see how the lighting was at nighttime and everything, and I'm afraid we got a bit... carried away. Being engaged is just so _exciting_ , and we're _so_  in  _love!_ "

The expression of the security guard softened.

"Oh, I completely understand," he said jovially. "Congratulations!"

"Thanks," Hermione gushed, clinging onto Ron's arm.

"I'll leave you to it," the guard said, winking at them. "Although I'll be back around in an hour, so I'd go easy on the foreplay just in case. I want you gone by then."

"Oh, no problem at all," Hermione said, shooting him a meaningful look. "We'll be done in a minute or two."

The guard gave her a sympathetic grimace.

"Right, then, enjoy."

And then he headed off. Hermione smiled smugly, turning to look at Ron. The tips of his ears were maroon.

"What?" she said, eyes wide and innocent.

"HERMIONE!" Ron shouted at her. She turned red.

"I'm sorry I told him we were engaged," she muttered. "I didn't mean to make you think about commitment in any way, shape, or form. It's just, I didn't want us to get arrested, and I had a feeling that guard was a softie, I just  _knew_ -"

"THAT'S NOT WHAT I'M MAD ABOUT!"

"What then?" Hermione asked, confused.

"A FEW MINUTES?"

She burst into laughter.

"Oh my god, you're concerned that he's judging you about your stamina?"

He glared at her as she giggled hysterically, clutching her stomach.

"You're reminding me of Lavender Brown," Ron warned her, but even that didn't shut her up.

"Men," Hermione said fervently once she was able to straighten up. "Oh, God, that was good," she exclaimed before catching sight of his glare and saying, "just like you are! Besides, the average-"

"Please shut up," Ron moaned. "Please, please, pretty please."

"Fine," said Hermione, "although I don't see why you wouldn't want to know the raw fact."

"Hey, as long as you stay with me I'm not going to worry about it."

"So what was that all about?" Hermione asked indignantly.

"That," Ron replied with dignity, "was a matter of pride."

"Good lord," said a very exasperated Hermione.

He shot her one glare full of chagrin before speaking again.

"Where do you want to go next?"

"Your call," Hermione shrugged.

"Brilliant," Ron said before taking her hand in his and spinning.

They ended up in another area that was as grassy as the park but much less manicured. The overgrown grass and wild flowers told Hermione exactly where she was, but she spun around excitedly nonetheless just to confirm it. The sight of a tall, lopsided building in the distance made Hermione clap her hands together and squeal with delight in a very uncharacteristic manner. She turned around again to see Ron staring at her with his eyebrows raised.

"What?" she said, blushing.

"We were just here about two days ago."

Hermione looked guilty.

"I know... but I love coming to the Burrow, you know? This place holds so many magnificent memories."

"Yeah?" was Ron's simple response.

"Yeah," Hermione said warmly.

"Well, in any case, we're not here for a social visit."

"So, pray tell, what are we here for?"

"I think you know."

A smile crossed her face.

"The pond?"

"The pond."

"Which one, exactly?"

"The hidden one," Ron replied.

They'd accidentally stumbled upon a hidden pond when they'd gotten lost while taking a long walk. Since then, they'd decided that it was their pond and it had become a wonderful place to go to get away from the hectic atmosphere of the Burrow (when they were visiting) or just life in general.

"Mhmm," Hermione said. "Well, it's an excellent plan, really. But I think you're forgetting one essential, love."

"And what's that?" Ron questioned.

"Bathing suits."

"Ah. Well, there's a simple solution to that problem."

"There is, is there?"

"Yup. We don't need them."

Hermione stared at him for a second. Ron stood his ground, even though all he really wanted to do was shove his hands into his pocket and look at her guiltily.

"Okay," Hermione said, slightly nervously. "Let's go for it."

Ron inwardly celebrated as he summoned a broomstick from the shed he could just make out in the distance. He caught it as soon as it zoomed towards them, then glanced back at Hermione.

"Oh, were you alright doubling with me?"

"I'm more than happy too," Hermione admitted, eying the broomstick and looking slightly pale. "Ron, do we-?"

"Yes, you know we can't find it if we're not flying."

"I just really hate flying," Hermione whimpered.

"I know," Ron said softly. "But do you think you can do this for me?"

Hermione studied the broomstick.

"You'll let me hold onto your waist the whole time, right?"

"Right."

"And you will keep your eyes straight ahead at all times, right?"

"Right."

"And you'll keep your hands on the handle at all times, right?"

"Right."

"Okay," Hermione sighed. "Fine."

Ron got onto the broom with a well-practiced swing of his leg, then watched as Hermione clambered on with as much grace as she could muster when she was shaking like mad. Ron turned kissed her sweetly until he earned himself the sigh.

"Alright now?" he muttered, pulling back.

"Uh-huh," Hermione said, falling forward to lean against his back. Her arms went around his waist and she breathed in his scent very deeply.

"Don't let go of me," Ron said.

"Would I?" she responded, teasing slightly.

"Good," he said, relieved. What he never told her was that feeling of her arms wrapped around him alleviated his nerves about her falling off and him being unable to catch her. He had a feeling she knew anyways. Ron kicked off from the ground and flew into the air. Wind whistled in his ears and he felt the same kind of alive that he always felt when he was flying. But he didn't need it as much anymore. As a matter of fact, he rarely flew at all these days. Because he got that exact same rush of content, adrenaline, and happiness whenever he was around Hermione. Flying was no longer necessary.

"Don't look down," he heard Hermione mutter.

"Talking to yourself is the first sign of insanity, love," he shouted over the rushing wind.

"Shut up Ron!" she called back. He chuckled and complied. "THERE!" Hermione yelled suddenly, and Ron jumped a mile at the sound of her loud voice.

"What the hell?" he demanded, turning around to look at her. All at once, his breath caught in his throat. Her hair was flying behind her in the wind, her face remarkably close to his and reasonably peaceful considering how high in the air the two of them were.

"The pond! You've just missed it," Hermione told him. Ron swore and swerved very fast without thinking, causing Hermione to scream loudly in his ear.

"SORRY!" Ron hollered as he began to descend to the ground. Hermione began to say something very rude, but luckily caught herself just in time. Ron snickered as his feet touched the ground.

"Get that smirk off of your face!" Hermione reprimanded weakly.

"All good, then?" Ron asked, already pulling off his jacket as his girlfriend swung her leg off of the broom. It landed on the ground with a dull thud- obviously the pockets were full.

"Fine," Hermione said, paler than usual.

Ron moved closer to her, dropping a kiss on her neck before glancing up at her.

"We need to get some color back into your face," he said, voice an octave lower than usual.

"And how to you propose we do that?" Hermione asked breathlessly.

"Easy."

"Easy?"

"Hermione, take off your clothes. Now."

She turned bright red.

"Ron!"

"What?" he smirked before reaching behind him and pulling his t-shirt over his head. She shifted from foot to foot, staring around the trees. "Hermione, you agreed to this not ten minutes ago!"

"I know, I know," she groaned. "But what if someone sees?"

"Simple, I'll punch them out."

"Ron!"

"Oi, not this again. Hermione, it's the dead of night and as far as we know, you and I are the only ones who know about this place." His jeans fell to the ground next. "Come on, then!"

"Oh, fine," Hermione huffed, and then she reached up and tentatively pulled her shirt over her head.

"That's my girl," Ron said proudly.

"Be quiet," Hermione hissed as she unzipped her pants.

"Never," Ron replied cheerily.

"Ugh."

Her jeans slithered to the ground, and for the second time Hermione had Ron completely speechless. He lurched forward toward Hermione, meaning to kiss her furiously, but she lunched out of his way, dived into the warm pond, and emerged a few seconds latter, dripping wet.

"Bloody hell," Ron groaned.

"Serves you right!" Hermione called severely. "Now get in the water, you tosser."

"Yes ma'am."

He dived right in after her and swam under water until he found her. Then he wrapped his arms around her waist and blew a raspberry on her bare stomach. Above him, Hermione shrieked.

"RON!" she scolded as he came back up. "You  _scared_  me!"

"Serves you right," he mocked.

"What am I going to do with you?"

"Punish me," he suggested, quirking a brow.

Hermione swatted him, and for some reason goosebumps erupted all over his skin from this. He rarely got goosebumps from her anymore- he was too used to her. After all, they'd been together for five years. But tonight the little things were getting to him. And all at once, everything had become too much. Her whole body was soaking wet and illuminated by moonlight. Her eyes seemed to be looking into his soul, just as they always did. Because no one ever saw him quite as Hermione did, and mostly that was a good thing. He wanted to look at himself through the eyes she looked at him with. It would probably be a huge confidence booster. Then again, her faith in him gave him enough confidence already. She trusted him to get her through her nightmares, to hold her at night, to tell her secrets to and to always be there when she woke up in the morning. The belief she had in him never failed to up his belief in himself- he would succeed in everything because she thought he could.

Emotion overcame Ron, and he moved forward so that his body was touching Hermione's. She gazed up at him, a small smile gracing her face, her eyes burning with the feeling of the moment. He tenderly cupped her cheek and she subconsciously leaned into his hand. His other hand came up to cradle her face, and suddenly he was kissing her with a searing intensity that was somehow agonizingly slow. She pulled back gasping for breath but he couldn't stop touching her. His lips found her neck and she tilted her head back almost immediately, shivering involuntarily. His tongue flicked at her ear and she wrapped her legs around his waist, clinging to him in the water.

"Do you want to get out?" he whispered against her ear. She nodded, still shivering quite a bit. He walked through the water still brushing his lips against her neck and managed to find their clothes. They lay down on the grassy bank and continued to snog until Ron pulled back. He stood up and threaded his hands into his hair, pacing back and forth.

"What's wrong?" Hermione demanded, slightly worried.

"There's... there's something I have to tell you. And I don't know how to say it, but I know that this is the right time to do it... give me a second, Hermione."

"Okay," she whispered.

"Grab my jacket, get warm," Ron suggested. There was a rustling sound behind him before Hermione let out a loud gasp. " _What_?" Ron asked, whirling around in a state of immense panic. She wasn't wearing the jacket, it was just placed in her lap.

Her expression was shocked, her voice completely different when she spoke.

"Er- nothing. I... I thought I saw someone in the trees, but it was just an animal."

"Oh," Ron breathed, thankful. "Good."

"Go back to what you were doing," Hermione urged.

He nodded wordlessly and resumed his pacing. And then he stopped. He turned to look at her, his expression instantly softening at the sight of her lying in the grass. He took her in with such adoration and love on his face that Hermione felt tears begin to prick her eyes. She'd never thought anyone would look at her that way, especially not someone she loved as much as Ron.

"Sleepless," Ron said suddenly, and Hermione frowned.

"What?"

"We're always so sleepless. Like we have to have each other in order to fall asleep, like we depend on each other to do it. You can never fall asleep when I'm on Auror missions, and I can never fall asleep when you're working late into the night."

"Yes, you're right about that," Hermione admitted.

"But tonight is just one of the other nights that we couldn't sleep... the first time you helped me fall asleep was in first year, Hermione. We were eleven years old, we weren't even friends yet, and I remember that there was something so smooth about your voice that lulled me right to sleep. No one had ever been able to do that before. Ever since then, we've specialized in those late nights where we stay up and talk, where we can't sleep and go to each other. For conversation, for comfort, for affection. And it's been that way for twelve years."

"Twelve years," Hermione repeated, slightly astounded by this fact. "That's more time than we'd been alive when we met each other."

"I've known you for more of my life than I haven't," Ron said shakily. "And the magnitude of that scares the hell out of me sometimes."

"Me too."

"But whenever we can't sleep, we depend on each other. We need each other.  _Need_. I didn't think I'd ever lean on someone the way I lean on you. And you're such an independent person- I find it amazing that you would ever lean on someone as much as you lean on me. It's not a flaw, it's a fact. It's who we are around each other, it's what we've become, you know?"

He looked desperate to make sure she did, indeed, know.

"Yes," Hermione said quietly. "I know."

"And the fact is," Ron went on, "that if everyone on this goddamn earth died right this moment and it was just the two of us left, it wouldn't matter. Because the two of us is all we need, in the emotional sense of things."

Hermione bit her lip, unwilling to take her gaze off him.

"I can't remember my life without you," she told him, her voice breaking. "It's as if I didn't start living until you came into my life... it can't technically be true, but everything else seems so insignificant in comparison."

"Exactly!" Ron said, enthused. "Exactly. Because we've gone so far together. No one will ever understand what it was like to be us five years ago."

"You got me to believe in destiny," Hermione whispered. "You got me to realize that everyone has a soul mate, and you're mine, because I've belonged to you since I met you. I've belonged to you since I was born, I suppose. I didn't know it, obviously. But sometimes I feel like I was born for two things. To fight for what I believe in and to be in love with you."

"Those are two extremely different things," Ron said hoarsely.

"Both are the smartest things I've ever done, and both are done with an extreme amount of passion. Passion I didn't even known I possessed until I had you," she told him, voice croaky as she fought the urge to cry.

"The thing is," Ron said, walking up to her, "every single dream I've ever had about my future has had you in it somehow. And I don't know what my future is without you- not anymore. I don't want to. I don't ever want to have to face that."

"Really?"

He knelt before her so that she could see every single tear that was threatening to spill from his eyes.

"I want you marry me."

She released a loud sob, her right hand coming up to cover the noise.

"Ron-"

"I would die for you... I wanted to die for you during the war. And seeing as I don't have that opportunity anymore, all I can do for you is dedicate the rest of my life to making sure you're happy."

She moved forward and kissed him, running her hand through his hair once, stroking it.

"That's all I've ever wanted to do, Ron. I want to spend the rest of my life making  _you_  happy."

"Really?" he croaked hopefully.

"I want to marry you, too.  _Soon_."

He kissed her again, fervently, lifting her up. Her underwear clad body was crushed against his bare chest and he knew that in the story they told their family they would have to change a few things, but it didn't matter. This was so them.

"I... I have to find..."

He set Hermione down and dropped onto his hands and knees, scrambling around looking for something. Alarm began to rise in him as he realized that the little box he had bought so many months ago was nowhere to be found.

"Looking for this?" asked a voice, and Ron looked up to see Hermione beaming at him, her left hand in midair by her face. And on the fourth finger glittered the beautiful engagement ring that Ron had been looking for. "It was in the pocket of your jacket."

His eyes widened.

"You mean you knew this whole time that I was proposing?"

Hermione blushed.

"Er- yeah, sort of."

"Oh," Ron blinked.

"But of course I had no idea of the eloquent manner you would do it in! I mean, that was breathtaking." Ron still looked slightly grumpy. Hermione walked over to him and slipped her arms around his neck. "On the bright side, it fits."

He laughed softly.

"Good."

Her lips were very close to his ear as she spoke her next words.

"I'd remove it and let you put it on for me, but I am never, ever taking this ring off again."

And she didn't.


	24. Chapter Twenty-four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because sometimes, to fall asleep, all you need is your best friend. Your boyfriend. Your fiancee. Your wife. Your soul mate. A collection of 30 moments in a lifetime during which Ron and Hermione just couldn't fall asleep.

**Chapter Twenty-Four**   
_January: 2004_

No matter what time of year it happened to be, the Burrow was always the wrong temperature. In the middle of the summer, sweltering heat filled the hallways, causing its occupants to sweat profusely and wear as few clothes as possible. During winter the air was chilling, freezing everyone in the house. And at midnight that January, Hermione was experiencing that type of cold that chilled her to the bone. Yes, she loved the picturesque yard and the gorgeously frosty windows. But she hated the way she had to walk around with covers pulled tightly against her body. She was already dressed in her warmest clothes- fleece pajama bottoms, a blue Weasley sweater, fuzzy socks and a knit hat to boot. It was one of Ron's old ones with a bobble on the top, which made her smile broadly. She sunk lower into Ginny's old bed, cursing her best friend for suggesting that Ron and Hermione spend the night before their wedding at the Burrow. It was the most ridiculous thing, really. Ron was in his own room just a few flights up, and Hermione was stuck down here. They always cuddled during winter, and that may have been one of the major reasons Hermione was so cold and literally shivering in her bed.

Then again, that was only one reason for her shaking. The other reason, quite frankly, was nerves. They had taken over everything, and a doubt that had never before surfaced was consuming her thoughts. Because for the first time in a long time she was scared, and she didn't exactly know why. It wasn't Ron, it couldn't be. Ron was perfect for her, the man that she was always destined to end up with. So why did she feel so alarmed?

She was actually panicked, and she didn't like feeling panicked. What was wrong with her? She was flipping out about marrying the man she'd had feelings for since she was thirteen. She was nervous about marrying a boy she'd known for thirteen years. What was she doing? What was she thinking? This needed to happen; they had been heading towards marriage ever since the first time they kissed. Hermione knew she had wanted this for such a long time. She'd never felt for anyone else the way she felt for Ron. So what exactly was she thinking?

Tomorrow was going to be January seventh- one day for each year that they'd known each other before they finally kissed. Hermione had felt so brilliant about figuring out a symbolic day. She tried to remind herself of how she had felt while planning the wedding- it had been stressful, but she hoped it would be worth it. Actually, stressful was an understatement. More like exhausting.

The whole wedding had to be Muggle, as several of Hermione's family members had to be there. A wizard would be binding them, of course, and the ceremony would be similar to that of Bill and Fleur's, but Hermione had arranged a service that excluded much of the usual magical traditions. Mrs. Weasley hadn't been too happy about it but Ron couldn't care less. Hermione had been pleased to find, when she finally mustered up the courage to ask him about it, that he didn't "give a flying rat's arse" about what happened during their wedding. All he wanted, he told her, was for her to show up and marry him and eat a delicious cake.

Thinking about this, Hermione let out a little laugh. It was so Ron, it really was. And it had made the wedding much easier to plan. He really didn't register any opinion on what went on, so Hermione didn't need to check in with him on anything. She just went ahead and did what she needed to do with the help of Mrs. Weasley, her mum, and her Maid of Honor.

Ginny had been a godsend in the whole process- Hermione was sure she would have exploded without her best friend there to help her. Mrs. Weasley and Hermione's mother often ganged up on the bride, trying to get her to take their sides instead of doing what she really wanted. Ginny and her temper wouldn't have any of it, stating truthfully that it was Hermione and Ron's wedding day, and therefore no one else needed to have any say in it. Which made the two ladies shut up for roughly two minutes until they launched into the next round of things. In the end, however, Hermione had been able to create a wedding she actually wanted.

Maybe that was what she was so nervous about: not Ron, but the wedding itself. After putting so much time and energy into it, if anything were to go wrong Hermione was sure that her heart would break. The wedding had been painstakingly planned, right down to every last detail, and it wouldn't be the first time that some minor thing had kept her up at night. Except this wasn't minor. This was the whole damn thing, and she was a nervous wreck.

Hermione bolted upright in bed as images of the whole marquee suddenly falling down around the guests popped into her mind. She blanched at the thought, then shook her head and leaped out of bed. That was it, the final straw. She needed to see Ron. She needed him to tell her that everything was going to turn out perfectly in that accidental, roundabout way of his. She needed to make sure he wasn't having second thoughts, because she didn't think her heart could take that. Almost silently, Hermione began her assent of the stairs. She made sure to skip the steps she knew would creak after years of sneaking up to Ron's room late in the night. She breathed a sigh of relief once she'd reached the door and lifted a closed fist to knock on the old wood, smiling nostalgically at the faded plaque that was still stuck to it. Just as her fist was about to hit the door it swung open to reveal her fiancée. He looked slightly manic. His eyes were wide, his hair was wild, and his shirt was eschew.

"Hermione," he breathed, running a hand through his hair.

"Ron!" she replied, her heart beating faster at the surprise of the door opening.

"What are you doing?" the two of them asked each other at the same time. "Oh, I needed to be with you," they admitted simultaneously. Ron flashed Hermione a slightly confused grin.

"Great minds think alike," he noted as he held the door open wider. Hermione dived into his arms, pressing her nose against his chest. She noted that he was wearing the  _Reading Is Fun_  t-shirt she'd gotten him for April Fools. Upon seeing this, she raised her eyebrows. "What? It's comfortable!"

Hermione chuckled and went to sit on his bed.

"Ron... can you-?"

"The list?" he said instantly.

"Yeah," Hermione breathed.

Ron stooped down to pick up a pair of discarded jeans from the floor. He reached into a pocket, pulled out a well worn piece of paper, and opened it.

"Flowers?"

"On their way tomorrow morning, to be picked up by Fleur."

"Dress?"

"Hanging in Ginny's closet, pressed and ready."

"Hair and makeup?"

"Being taken care of by my sister-in-law to be."

"Men's dress robes?"

"My dad's picking them up at eleven AM."

"Officiator?"

"Lined up and confirmed."

"RSVPs?"

"All sent in."

"Band?"

"Lined up and confirmed."

"Church?"

"Also lined up and confirmed."

"Venue?"

"Ready to be headed into for dinner and dancing."

"Meal?"

"All guests have replied either chicken, steak, or vegetarian."

"Marriage license?"

"To be signed in magical ink during the wedding."

"George's straitjacket?"

"RON!"

"Shhhh!" he murmured as she began laughing loudly. He covered her mouth with his hand. "I really can't make jokes around you, can I?" Hermione's tongue darted out of her mouth and she licked Ron's hand. "Ew! Hermione! We don't know where that's been."

"My tongue? Oh, we know exactly where that's been," Hermione said suggestively. "Your hand, however..."

"Well you know where that's been better than anyone."

"Good point. Shall we move on with the list?"

"Okay. Just be quiet, we don't want to wake mum up and face her wrath of seeing us in my room together," Ron reminded her, shuddering a bit at the thought. "Vo-"

"You know what I want to know?" Hermione questioned, cutting him off.

"What?"

"Why are we still sneaking around your mum? I mean, we're just talking and we're about to get married tomorrow, for the love of Merlin."

Ron shrugged.

"Force of habit, I suppose."

"We should really kick it."

"Agreed. Now, vows?"

"Written and approved by Ginny."

"Good. So there we go. Nothing to be nervous about, everything's fine," he reaffirmed, kissing the top of her head.

"Thanks Ron," Hermione beamed. "So why couldn't you sleep?"

He looked conflicted.

"I'm not actually sure. I mean, I'm nervous about tomorrow. Like... what if I mess up on my vows and make a complete idiot of myself?"

"Then you'll laugh it off and keep going," Hermione suggested knowingly.

"What if I mess up so bad you decide not to marry me?" he teased, joking to mask the concern he'd had for a while.

"The only thing that could stop me from marrying you tomorrow is you saying 'I, Ron, take thee, Lavender'. Other than that, I think we'll be just fine."

He winced.

"Just so long as you don't say 'I, Hermione, take thee, Viktor'."

"I tell you what. We'll make the ushers seat them on the sides we aren't facing so that there will be no way for us to see their faces and accidentally say their names."

"Perfect," Ron said. "I'm so glad I'm marrying you."

"Oh, I'm glad you're marrying me too," Hermione said, leaning over to kiss Ron lightly on the lips. "And of course I'm thrilled to marry you."

"Uh-huh. Yeah," said Ron, and then he leaned down to kiss her more deeply. All at once, all of Hermione's misgivings seemed to go away, vanishing in the kiss. Ron was everything she'd ever wanted in a man (once she'd sorted out her priorities) and of course she would marry him. Of course she would spend the rest of her life with him. It wouldn't even matter if something went wrong with the wedding- not in the grand scheme of things. In fifty years, would they even remember their wedding? If they did, they'd probably laugh about whatever went wrong during it, hurt long forgotten in the midst of having a family together. Children and grandchildren and... why was Ron pulling back?

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked immediately.

He looked slightly sheepish as he smiled up at her (she was on top of him).

"Remember the night I told you I wanted to marry you?"

"Yes, Ron. It was nine months ago. I think I can remember nine months ago."

"No, not that time!" he said hastily. "The first time."

"You've proposed more than once?" Hermione inquired, befuddled. She slid off of Ron and lay down sideways to the right of him, resting her cheek on the palm of her hand so that she could stare at him as he spoke.

" _No_!" Ron responded emphatically. "I told you I wanted to marry you... in the tent... April... 1999."

"Oh. Oh! Wow... that was a while ago, Ron."

"Yeah, it was," he allowed. "But I used to replay the moment in my head whenever times were hard. I was just thinking... those questions you asked me. I never answered them."

"It's alright," Hermione told him. "I can't even remember what I asked you."

"The first question was about how many kids I want to have."

Hermione hid her face in her hands.

"Oh my god. I asked you that when we were only nineteen? How embarrassing."

"No, don't," Ron interjected quickly, watching as she began to inwardly berate herself. "Hermione, asking all those questions was good. Even though I didn't want to answer them at the time... well, it gave me nearly four years to think about my answers, love."

"Still-"

"Four. I want four kids. Two boys and two girls. We will treat them all equally well- none of them will get lost in the shuffle of the other ones. That was one burden of having a huge family and I won't inflict it on my children. We aren't going to wait to find out if it's a boy or a girl because I know that would drive you absolutely barmy and wouldn't dream of taking away the chance to pre-prepare the nursery from you. And I don't know what I want to name them, but I know that I don't want to name them anything significant to our lives. I don't want to say their names and conjure up memories of a dead person. I don't want my heart to hurt when I look at my children. Yes, I do think they should go to Muggle school before Hogwarts, because if they're anything like their mother they won't be able to sit still when they could be doing something useful. I also think that would be good because if you wanted to be a stay at home mum you could go back to work once the last kid hit Kindergarten. Plus, it might be good for them to have some basic knowledge of social skills and academic skills before they go to Hogwarts. If we don't send them to Muggle school the only contact they'll have with other kids is their legions of cousins."

"You've put a lot of thought into this, haven't you?" Hermione mused adoringly. Ron plowed on with his speech.

"Family vacations will be with Harry and Ginny when the kids are younger because we'll need more help, but as they get older we'll go off on our own family vacations. We're going to need breaks from the Weasley craziness, of course. We'll travel all over- historical sights for you, fun sights for me. We will create well-balanced and exciting vacations for the whole family. Sometimes we will go on vacation with your parents, and those will be the vacations that they take the children to kiddie parts while we stay in our hotel room and make love. Those will be our favorite vacations."

"Mmm, I can see why," Hermione smirked.

"Now, as for whether to have a dog or a cat, I think we should get both. One dog and one cat. The dog will be a terrier, because that's my patronus, and we'll name it Otter because that's yours. And the cat…well, we'll leave that up to the kids. Of course, they'll probably fight about it a lot, so we'll have to step in and be mediators. The cat will be ginger so that she can blend into the family. As for child discipline... I'll be the pushover, you be the mean one."

Hermione contemplated this for a second.

"That sounds so perfect," she told him, kissing his nose. "I love you."

He looked delightedly surprised.

"Really? You like The Plan?"

"I adore it," she admitted. "Too bad life never works out that perfectly, but I daresay some of that does sound achievable."

"So lets make it a goal," suggested Ron. "We'll try to work our way towards The Plan all our lives, while accepting that some of it isn't going to go the way we planned it."

Hermione looked at him tearfully. She felt slightly weepy and rather full. As though she'd just finished a particularly amazing novel that was filled with romance and fairytale happy endings. She loved that feeling, and she loved it even more when Ron Weasley was able to give it to her. He'd just poured out nearly four years of thought about their relationship and she'd never even seen it coming.

"I'm even more excited to marry you now. Is that possible?"

"You tell me," he said smugly.

"I'm so glad I fell in love with you," Hermione said sincerely. "Thank god for that troll, because I don't want to know how my life would have turned out without it."

"That makes two of us. On both accounts."

Hermione turned onto her back, staring at the Cannons poster on the ceiling.

"So we know what we're most excited about. What are you least excited about?"

He looked sideways at her, raising his eyebrow.

"You don't really want me to answer that, do you?"

"No, I do!" Hermione said earnestly, looking at him as well.

"Okay," he said hesitantly. "Um... I guess... well, you know how you haven't eaten dessert ever since you got your wedding dress fitting?"

"Yes," Hermione snickered, thinking she knew where this was going.

"I'm really going to miss you making me eat chocolate and cheesecake and then snogging the hell out of me to see if you could get any flavor out of it because you miss the taste but don't want any calories."

Hermione smiled reminiscently.

"It was a pretty smart plan on my part, actually. I'll probably still do that on occasion."

"Feel free," Ron said cockily. "Anytime, really."

Hermione laughed.

"We should probably try and get some sleep."

"Why?" Ron complained. "Hermione, if we haven't been successful at falling asleep yet, we really won't have any luck for the rest of the night."

"Things have changed," Hermione reasoned. "We just had a really good talk and gotten our minds cleared about each other. You've vanquished any of my reservations about tomorrow. I think I'll be able to sleep now. I've learned something tonight, Mr. Weasley."

"What's that?" he asked curiously.

"Our little talk about the future has made me see that everything happens for a reason. So if something bad happens tomorrow, I think I'll be able to shake it off and get over it."

"Everything happens for a reason, huh?"

"Yes," she said gently.

"That still doesn't explain why can't we stay up and talk."

Hermione stood up and crept towards the door.

"Because we're going to need to be in top form tomorrow."

"Why? All we have to do is stand up, say a few words and then smile and look pretty for the rest of the day."

"Oh, no, not the wedding," Hermione said mischievously. "You're going to need to have your strength for what I plan to do to you tomorrow night."


	25. Chapter Twenty-five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because sometimes, to fall asleep, all you need is your best friend. Your boyfriend. Your fiancee. Your wife. Your soul mate. A collection of 30 moments in a lifetime during which Ron and Hermione just couldn't fall asleep.

**Chapter Twenty Five  
** _July: 2006_

His feet thumped against the pavement as he ran, need to reach home taking over everything else. His heart pounded with the beat of his feet and he panted slightly, a light sweat breaking out on his skin. It was a balmy night with a waning crescent moon- probably not the best evening to be running. But he'd needed to get away- he just had to. He couldn't bear to spend one more second in the new house. Yes, he liked it. But everything about it was so unfamiliar. He missed the way he had known the old flat so well. The way he'd roll out of bed in the morning and be able to find his way to the shower with his eyes closed. Nowadays he had to actually open his eyes to find his way to the bathroom. Worse still, Hermione's voice was just a little quieter when she sang in the morning. The shower was much too far away from the bed for Ron's liking, and he couldn't hear her as well.

The little things were still there. He still got to see his red toothbrush next to Hermione's blue one. The closet was still a shrine to their lives, mushing their clothes up against each other in a way that could only be described as metaphoric. The mantle still held pictures of all their friends and family members. But the white board he and Hermione used to write reminders or endearments to each other was in a different place. And the kitchen was much too far away from the family room- with the new house it was a little harder to go from the muggle television to the fridge. Ron had to summon his butterbeer whenever he was listening to Quidditch, lest he miss thirty seconds of the game. This home had several rooms yet to be filled, and because of that it felt rather empty. They had to live there, he knew that. They were preparing for a family. But that didn't make it any easier.

It seemed to Ron that he had always known he wanted to marry Hermione. He had known for such a long time that he wanted to have children with her, too. Now that they were being proactive towards this, however, he wasn't quite as keen on it. Having children meant gaining a whole lot, but it also meant giving up a hell of a lot of things. It meant that Ron would no longer be able to go on the more intense auror missions- Hermione would need him at home. His children would depend on him to be there, to earn money for them. Having children meant that Ron wouldn't be able to go out with the guys whenever he wanted, or shag Hermione anywhere in the house. So much would change, and he wasn't sure if he was ready to lose that.

Thinking back, he knew that he hadn't been as nervous before marrying Hermione. That choice had somehow been easier to make. Because when he married Hermione... well, nothing really changed, did it? No, nothing did. They'd come home to the same place. They'd slept in the same bed. They acted the same around each other. No, the only thing marrying Hermione had done- besides giving her his last name- was make their relationship more final, more official. That choice simply hadn't been a hard one to make. As a matter of fact, it was the easiest one of his life. He'd never been happier than he was now. A surge of euphoria came over him whenever he heard Hermione say that her last name was Weasley. She was all his forever and everyone knew it.

Finally reaching the house, Ron stopped, simply staring at the dark windows. He wondered how long he'd been gone- they'd had the fight around ten o'clock at night. It wasn't dawn yet, but it was probably well past midnight. He'd been unable to stand the stupid new house anymore and had just run out the door. He hadn't stopped running since. Usually, his and Hermione's fights ended with him apparating away for five seconds flat and then returning promptly, one of them falling into the other's arms spewing out ardent apologies. This fight had been bigger, and therefor he'd needed to be away from everything for a longer time. Hermione was well aware of the fact that Ron ran away when he was scared or when he needed to cool off. This, however, didn't stop him from feeling guilty about going out. Ron bent down and plucked a weed from a crack in the sidewalk. Waving his wand, he transfigured the scraggly plant into a bright red rose. Feeling as though this was the best he could offer Hermione, Ron walked up the steps to the house and let himself in.

It was dark. Hermione hadn't heard him come in- she was lying on the couch watching her favorite television show, wrapped up tightly in blankets even though it was July. He watched the screen as a tall, broad man stared down at his love interest, a petite brunet woman. Ron knew this show- it was about witches. Hermione loved watching shows about magic for some strange reason, and she'd watched more television in the past five months. This was her favorite couple on the show- she loved how the height difference of them was exactly like her and Ron's. Ron would often sit there and watch the three main women of the show kick demon arse, although he was in it less for the magic and more for the cuddling and the fact that the sisters often wore revealing clothes.

He had just started smirking to himself when he realized that Hermione was crying.

"Hermione!" he said, startled. She shrieked and looked up, dropping the blankets when she saw him.

"Ron," she said shakily.

"Why are you crying?" he demanded, need to protect her kicking in instantly.

"Oh, it's those two," Hermione said tearfully, gesturing towards the television. "It just m-makes me s-so sad th-that they d-don't end up t-together!"

Ron raised his eyebrows. Obviously she was crying over their fight and this was the excuse. He crept closer to her and sat on the couch when it became evident that she wasn't going to hex him. She placed her head on his shoulder and allowed him to envelope her in his embrace.

"He's evil, Mione," he reminded her.

"B-but they're s-so in love!" she protested. "A-and he w-was willing to work on it, at l-least! He tried t-t-to b-be good. I just hate t-that she has to spend the r-rest of her life wishing things were different! That things didn't w-work out even though they were s-so in love! They d-didn't end up together even though they were p-perfect for each other... it's not fair! L-love should always win. Always."

"The actor had to leave the show, sweetheart," Ron said, brushing her tears away. "He came back, though."

"For one lousy episode," Hermione sniffled. "And t-then she w-went off and m-married a s-stupid c-character that I-I'm not even c-convinced s-she r-really l-loved!"

"Hermione," Ron whispered in her ear. "I'm sorry."

"Me too."

He reached over her and switched the television off.

"Not about the show, love. About our fight."

She bit her lip.

"Oh. That."

"I overreacted. I panicked. It was so stupid... I've been preparing for this for years and I've wanted it for such a long time and I just can't seem to pull myself together about it."

She reached a hand up and tenderly stroked the light stubble on his cheek, hands still shaking a bit.

"I know you're scared," she told him gently. "I am too. But this is... well, it's inevitable now. We've made our bed and now we have to lay in it."

He closed his eyes as she spoke, picturing the empty rooms on the upstairs floor of their home.

"What if I'm a rubbish father?" he muttered. She kissed his cheek.

"Simple. You won't be a rubbish father."

"Hermione!" he protested, eyes snapping open so that he could glare at her resentfully. "I'm being serious, here."

"So am I!" she promised with equal fervor. She seemed to be gearing herself up for a fight. Ron felt himself recoil slightly- he didn't usually win fights with members of the Magical Law department, especially not his wife. "Ron, you are going to be an amazing father. You're going to be the best father on earth, I just know it."

He winced.

"Don't get your hopes up."

"I'm not hoping for anything, I'm stating fact."

"Alright Hermione," he said testily. "What makes you think I'm going to be such a magnificent father?"

"First of all," she said, "I know you. I've known you since you were eleven years old-"

"A time when I was definitely not ready for fatherhood."

"Not the point," Hermione said coldly, glaring at him. "Let me finish my statement will you?"

"Fine."

"I was going to say that- seeing as I have known you since eleven- I have watched you grow up into the man you are today. You have changed so much, into something so wonderful. You've become sweeter, kinder, gentler, smarter, braver and more selfless. All things you need to be a good father- and a good husband, for that matter. In all the years since you've become this man, I have never seen you back down from a challenge. No matter how difficult things get in the auror department, you're always putting your best foot forward. This, too, is a skill you need to be a good father. Along with that, you have such amazing role models. You've watched Bill learn to be a dad, and Percy, and Harry. Plus, your father is possibly one of the most amazing fathers I've ever met. You take after him in a lot of ways, Ron, and I so admire his parenting style."

"You're hyping me up to more than I'm worth," Ron grumbled. "You're being all lawyer-y."

"Lawyers have to tell the truth, love."

He had no argument for this, so he moved onto something else.

"What if I don't know what I'm doing?"

Hermione was exasperated now.

"That's not even a valid excuse. We babysit for our godson all the time and you're excellent at it. James adores you, Teddy adores you. You're a nappy whiz and you know how to swaddle babies and hold them and give them their bottles. Honestly, seeing you with children is the most adorable thing I have ever looked at. Every time I see you with a child I want one so badly," she said, wistfulness drenched in her tone of voice.

"But, Hermione, they're not my children!" Ron argued, panicking. "I don't have to take them home and deal with them at night. I don't have to give them the birds and the bees chat or teach them how to talk or give them baths or boss them around. I leave all that stuff up to my siblings."

The next thing he knew, Hermione was reaching for his hand. She pulled it to her, placing it on the large bump in her stomach.

"Feel that, Ron?" she whispered. "That's our little girl. She's ours. We made her, and in a little over three months she's going to arrive into the real world and we're going to have to take care of her. She's going to be our responsibility for seventeen years, and so much is going to change in that time. We're going to watch her grow up from a squirming little baby into a married woman with a baby like she once was. And we're going to have to help her, Ron. Because we're her parents and we're the ones she's going to come to when she has a bad dream and when she scrapes her knee and when she's got a broken heart. And you know what, Ron? All you have to do is give her as much love as you show me everyday and you will be the most phenomenal father this world has ever seen. Oh my god, she is going to love you so much. So much."

He felt a strange urge to cry as he thought about this, about the little girl that was more his than anything else ever had been.

"I don't want to fail her, Hermione," he said finally. "I want to be everything you say I can, but if I don't it will be... catastrophic. This isn't something you can just quit at, or rip up and start again. This is the biggest commitment we've ever made."

"You think I don't know that?" she chuckled. "I know that well, Ron. But I still want her. She's going to have your hair and your eyes and my nose and my brains... she's going to be so perfect. She's going to be ours. Our baby."

"We can't even agree on a name for her!" Ron snapped. "How can we raise her properly?"

"We'll come up with a name!" Hermione said, laughing. "Don't worry, Ron. Everything's going to be fine. We'll get through this. Do you think I'm going to be the perfect mum?"

"Yes," he said moodily. "You're perfect at everything you do."

"Well I won't be perfect at this," Hermione said decisively. "I'm probably going to turn out just like my mother... who, believe me, was not a bad parent. But she always expected so much of me, put so much pressure on me. I'm afraid I'll be overbearing like her and expect too much out of my children. And no matter how much I tell myself not to do it, I'll probably end up doing it anyways. Which is where you come in. You're going to remind me and her that it's okay to let up every once in a while, to let loose, to be free. You're going to help me not become my mother, and in return I'm going to help you with the birds and the bees talk. Sound fair?"

He hesitated.

"You're giving the talk to the girls, right? I mean, I'll take the boys, but-"

"Ron, sweetheart," Hermione said, kissing him on the lips, then the jaw. "She's not even born yet. Let's not angst about how we're going to explain how babies are made to her, alright? We'll save that for another year."

"Okay," he sighed, allowing her to kiss him more. "Oh, I forgot."

"Forgot what?"

"I have a peace offering."

He pulled the rose from behind his back and handed it to Hermione. She stared at it for a second, then took it, turning it over cautiously in her hands.

"Ron," she said hoarsely. "Rose."

"Yes. Yes it is," he replied, slightly condescendingly. Merlin, pregnancy's making her barmy. "Good for you, honey." She smacked him with a blanket. "Hey!"

"I meant Rose. As in a proper noun. As in a name!" she said, excited. "Oh, Ron, it's perfect! It's such a beautiful name, and when you hear it you can think of this conversation and it can remind you of everything. Right?"

He just looked at her, his expression yielding no information.

"Rose," he said quietly. "Rosie. Rose."

"What to you think?" Hermione asked, excitement giving out into nerves.

"It's brilliant," he croaked. "Rose!"

"Rose!" Hermione giggled, leaning over to kiss him. "I love you," she reminded him. "Please don't ever forget that."

"I love you too, Hermione," he said, kissing her soundly. Something struck him suddenly, and he pulled back. "Hey, what about her middle name?"

Hermione yawned rather obviously.

"Can we worry about that tomorrow?"

"Okay," he allowed. "Ready for bed, love?"

"You bet," she confirmed, yawning again.

They walked upstairs, hand in hand. They brushed their teeth and changed into pajamas and Hermione fell asleep around three o'clock in the morning. Ron waited for her breathing to become deep and steady before doing it. He scooted down on the bed and lifted her shirt, revealing her belly. Then he spoke as quietly as he could.

"Hi, Rosie. I'm Ron... no, wait, I'm daddy. Don't call me Ron, you'll get grounded. Haha, I sound like a father already," he grinned. Then he coughed, becoming sober again. "Anyways. I just wanted to say... well, I apologize in advance for all the stupid things I'm going to do while raising you. But I'm going to try to make growing up fun for you, alright? We're going to play Quidditch and eat Nana Weasley's cooking and have rigorous chess matches and we're going to make mum breakfast in bed on valentine's day, mother's day, and her birthday. Anyways, I just want to confirm the fact that... well, we're in this together, aren't we? I'm going to be learning how to be a father, and you're going to be learning how to be a person. We'll help each other out, be on the same team. I promise, Rose, that I'll always do my best. And in return, don't be too hard on me, okay?" He lay there for a second as though expecting a response. "Well, that's all. I just... I can't wait to meet you, Rosie. And I love you. Always will."

With that, he placed a gentle kiss on his wife's stomach and slid her shirt back down. He lay back down on his pillow and fell asleep very quickly. So quickly, in fact, that he missed the small smile on Hermione's face and the soft whisper that came a few seconds later.

"Mummy loves you too, Rose."


	26. Chapter Twenty-six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because sometimes, to fall asleep, all you need is your best friend. Your boyfriend. Your fiancee. Your wife. Your soul mate. A collection of 30 moments in a lifetime during which Ron and Hermione just couldn't fall asleep.

**Chapter Twenty Six**   
_February: 2009_

His pacing was relentless- back and forth, back and forth. The rhythm was become all too familiar by now- after hours of this, it felt like the only constant in his life. How long had they been there, exactly? How long had it been since he'd been kicked out of the room while his wife gave birth? That hadn't happened when she was having Rose. Rose had been fairly uncomplicated, to be honest. Ron had been there the whole time. It was fine. He'd held Hermione's hand and encouraged her and regularly given his family members updates on what was going on. But now he was just as clueless as they were. He couldn't even hear what was going on, due to the powerful silencing charm placed on the door. It was meant to protect family members from having to hear the screaming, he knew that. Its main purpose at the moment, however, seemed to be simply to drive him insane.

Ron was nervous, Ron was scared, and Ron was angry. He wasn't used to being told no when it came to Hermione- what was her business was usually his business. He was her husband, for the love of fucking Merlin. He was always there. For everything. He could get into the courtroom to watch her being all lawyer-y. He could sit there for hours and watch her be a mum if he wanted to. And he was pretty sure it was within his rights to be there when she gave birth. Wasn't it? Unless something was going terribly, terribly wrong, it was absolutely positively within his rights to be able to be there for her during the birth of one of their children. Which brought along the unthinkable question: was something wrong? Were there complications?

Running his hands through his hair in a frustrated manner, Ron was about to swear when he felt a little hand tugging at his jeans. He looked down to see Rose (brought along by Nana Molly) staring up at him expectantly.

"Dadda?" she said, and he tried to keep his composure as he stared down at her beautiful little face, complete with Hermione's eyes and Hermione's nose and Hermione's freckles.

Hermione, Hermione, Hermione.

"Yes, Rose?" he replied, voice weaker than he'd intended. She seemed to be catching on to his panic, as her face was slightly alarmed.

"Dadda, story?"

He wanted with all his heart to tell her a story, but he knew exactly the kind of story she wanted and he simply wasn't up for it. Ron and Hermione had spent the past few years of Rose's life telling her stories about Henry, Ryan, and Heather, the war heroes who had spent seven years of their lives fighting an evil sorcerer named Riddle. She had favorites (for example, she loved the story of the time travel, but wasn't a fan of the Chamber of Secrets) that she would request every night before bed, and by now she'd heard almost every story, bar the more violent ones. They had wanted to ease her into the stories, get her used to them, before actually telling her that they were real. Ron and Hermione weren't intending on telling her they were real for a very, very long time.

"No, Rosie," Ron said, exhaustion evident in his expression. "Not tonight."

"No story?" she whimpered, biting her lip in a very Hermione-like fashion. Ron felt his stomach drop at the sight.

"No story," Ron repeated clearly. She began to sniffle, and Ron leaned down and scooped her up, wishing he wasn't quite as tall so that he wouldn't have to stoop so considerably. He carried her over to his mother and deposited Rose in her lap. "Could you bring her back to yours?" he asked in an undertone.

"Of course, dear," Molly replied, looking rather concerned.

"Thanks," Ron muttered. "I just can't... I can't handle everything right now."

"Understandable," Arthur said honestly.

"Be good for grandma, alright Rosie?" Ron said, staring down at her with a slightly stern look on his face. Molly exchanged amused glances with Arthur. The only time Ron acted like a disciplinarian was when Hermione wasn't available to do it herself, and even though he was a father it was a very rare side of him to see. Hermione probably saw it more at home, but when Ron was at the Burrow he was usually just as playful as the children were, and only needed to show his meaner side when his wife wasn't in the vicinity.

"Okay, Dadda," she promised, and he leaned down to kiss the top of her head.

"I love you, Rose," he told her quietly. She grinned and he smiled back, tugging on a piece of her vibrant red hair, causing her to giggle.

Molly and Arthur left quietly and were soon replaced by Harry and Ginny. Ginny looked quite fearful, but Harry looked even more panicked than his wife did.

"What's going on?" he inquired desperately, and Ron shrugged.

"Wish I knew."

"What exactly happened?" Ginny asked softly. "What did the Healers say?"

"I don't know!" Ron replied, frustrated. "I wasn't fucking paying attention to them, was I? I was concentrating on my wife, who happened to be in the process of giving birth. And then the Healer went to check on her and they all started tittering about complications and kicked me out without answering any of my questions. When I tried to get back in they actually locked the door on me."

His eyes were glistening with tears, the fear that gripped him taking over any pride he was clinging to. Ginny looked like her heart was breaking. Harry looked like he had no idea what to do. Suddenly he moved forward and hugged Ron. It was brief, but it meant a lot. At the sight, Ginny burst into tears and moved to hug Ron as close as her pregnant belly would allow her. He closed his eyes and reminded himself that he wasn't the only one who cared, that he had Harry and Ginny and his parents and Rose. Harry, who had known Hermione just as long as Ron had, and Ginny, who had become one of Hermione's best friends as they'd grown older. His parents, who quite honestly had been rooting for him and Hermione since the beginning. And Rose, their child. Rose was everything, he couldn't loose his mind. He had to stay strong no matter what happened.

"How long has it been?" Harry asked quietly.

"I don't know," Ron said sharply. "Does it sound like I know anything? It's been a long-arse time, that's all I can tell you."

"Ron," Ginny said, "whatever happens, we're going to be there for you and Hermione. You know that, right?"

"'Course," Ron said wearily. "Thanks, Ginny."

She was quiet after that, they all were. Ron looked over at Harry and knew what he was thinking immediately. He was thinking that Hermione had suffered through far worse than giving birth, so this would probably be fine. She'd been tortured by Bellatrix, she'd destroyed a Horcrux, she'd fought so many battles. This wouldn't even be a blip on her radar.

Ron hoped to God he was right. They sat there in silence the whole night, watching the hours tick away. Around four AM, the door to the room swung open. A Healer's Assistant walked out, looking extremely tired and slightly annoyed.

"Mr. Weasley?" she called. Ron stood up immediately.

"Yeah?"

"The baby's here," she told him. "It's a boy, but I think you know that. He's pretty much fine, there were just a few... complications. Mrs. Weasley has been sleeping for a few hours, but she's just come to. We've delivered the news to her."

"News?" Ron said quickly. "What news?"

"Your wife has been asking- no, demanding- to see you, so if you'll please come right this way," the Healer's Assistant said, ignoring Ron's question.

Ron hurried after her into the room. Upon seeing Hermione, he sucked in a horrified breath. She looked worse than he'd ever seen her in his life, pretty much as awful as she'd looked when she'd been tortured. She was lying down in bed, curled up into as tight a ball as she could manage, and sobbing relentlessly.

"Hermione?" Ron said, moving towards her. "What's wrong?"

She cried harder simply at the sound of his voice, and her hand drifted from under the covers to find his.

"I'm sorry, Ron," she cried. "I'm so sorry!"

He breathed in sharply, sinking down onto his knees so that he could be level with her face.

"What, Hermione? What's wrong?" he demanded.

She continued to weep inconsolably, rendering her words incomprehensible as she struggled to compose herself.

"I didn't mean for it to happen," she told him, opening her eyes and staring at him. They were bloodshot, with streaks of sweat and tears all over her face. "I didn't know there were going to be complications, Ron, it was all an accident... I d-don't know w-what I d-did wrong!"

"I'm sure you didn't do anything wrong, sweetheart," he whispered, stroking her hair back from her face. "I'm sure you were amazing."

"It's my fault!" she protested, and Ron's heart broke as he heard the silent scream behind her words. "I'm sorry, Ron, I'm sorry!"

"Shhh," he soothed, stretching forward so that he could kiss her on the forehead. "Just tell me what's wrong."

She stared at him for a few minutes, tears leaking from her eyes, horror and sorrow on her face. Then she said hoarsely,

"Something went wrong. I don't exactly know what, but... the Healer, she said I can't... oh, Ron, I c-can't have children anymore."

He felt his insides freeze as his wife broke out into a fresh wave of hysterical sobs and another array of 'I'm sorrys'. It took a few minutes for his brain to wrap around these dreadful words, the ones that he'd never even considered having to worry about. He'd been dreading different words, albeit these were slightly easier to hear than those words would have been. Still, the fact that these were real and the other ones weren't were what made it more awful than his worst-case-scenario thoughts had felt.

"It's okay, Hermione," he said finally. "It's fine."

"No it's not!" she shrieked, eyebrows contracting madly. "Ron, it's not okay! W-we wanted four kids and we only have two! We made a plan. I promised! And I'm such a horrible wife because-"

"Stop!" Ron said sharply. "It's not your fault, Hermione. This isn't your fault at all."

" _It is_!" she screamed. " _It is_!"

He could tell she wanted him to pick a fight with her, to get back to some feeling other than raw anguish. But he couldn't do that, so instead he moved forward and sat on the bed with her and wrapped his arms around her body. He held her tight against him, feeling her shaking body succumb to his embrace. For a long time he simply held her, letting her cry. It took maybe an hour of stroking her hair and kissing her tears away to get her to stop crying hysterically. The weeps became whimpers, and finally Ron was able to talk.

"Before we got married, you told me that everything happens for a reason," he murmured. "Hermione, did you stop believing that?"

She looked up at him, shock on her face.

"How could you say that this happened for a reason?"

"I don't know," Ron said quickly. "I would love to have more children with you, Hermione. But maybe two was all we were ever supposed to have. Maybe we should just be grateful that we got Rose and our new little boy."

"We wanted more!" Hermione argued. "And I failed us."

"Stop!" Ron commanded. "You can't bloody think this is your fault, Hermione. I'm sick of it. Somewhere in that brilliant mind of yours, you know this isn't anything you have control of. You couldn't have affected what happened. This is something in your genes, or something that the cards dealt to you. But you can get through this-  _we_ can get through this."

"God, Ron, what's wrong with you?" Hermione spat at him, moving out of his arms. She felt so much guilt and sadness and anger, at herself and the world and even the baby she'd just given birth to. " _What are you doing_? Get angry, will you? Whoever is up there just stole children away from us, children that we wanted to have! That isn't fair."

Ron slid off of the bed to give her space and knelt beside her again, pleading.

"Did I say it was fair, Hermione?" he asked as his voice raised. He was becoming impatient with her, and the awfulness of their situation was just starting to sink in. Every image they'd planned their life around in the past few years of marriage had been built around a four-child family- a family that they were no longer going to be able to have. "LIFE isn't fair, but you need to understand that... well, we have a shit-load of things to be bitter about. But there's so much good in our lives, Hermione."

His tone was begging her to understand.

"Good? What good?" Hermione demanded. "Ron, everything is always taken away from us! Our childhoods. Our loved ones. And now this! I wanted it to go perfectly for once- we're entitled to this! We should have been able to do what we wanted to do."

"But we have each other," he reminded her desperately. "Hermione, do you know what our lives could be right now? We could have only one child, or no child at all. We could be divorced or broken up after never having been married at all. One of us could be dead! Earlier in the waiting room I had to think about what might happen if you died in childbirth. I mean, it's been known to happen, and my mind kept wandering back to it. I was so fucking scared, Hermione. So scared. But you're here and I'm here and Rose and our baby boy are here and that's all I bloody care about at this point."

She stared at him for a second, watching as the tears began to well in his eyes. Hermione was silent for quite a few minutes, contemplating his words. Wordlessly, she reached up and stroked his cheek, brushing her fingers over his lips briefly. He could feel the ache of her touch, feel thousands of glass-encased dreams shattering to the floor at his feet.

"I'm sorry," she sighed again. "I was so afraid that... that..."

He immediately frowned, dread filling him all over again.

"What, Hermione?"

She looked rather ashamed of herself, and her face turned bright red. Her next words were spoken so quietly Ron had to lean forward to hear them.

"When they told me, at first I... I thought you were going to want to leave me because I couldn't have anymore kids," she admitted. Outrage crossed Ron's face as he registered this, which Hermione noticed instantly. She looked across at him, searching his face, then broke out into a weak smile. "I was being silly, right?"

"Of course," Ron promised her, leaning over to kiss her. He poured so much love into that kiss, and while it wasn't physically passionate, emotionally it was the epitome of good kisses. He poured a thousand  _I love yous, I'm sorrys,_  and  _I'm yours'_ into that kiss, and she accepted them with a happy sigh as she pulled back. Her eyes were drooping again.

"I love you, Ron."

"I love you too."

She peaked open an eye and patted the bed.

"Come cuddle with me?"

He could tell how tired she was by the way her words were slurring together. He smiled half heartedly and crawled onto the bed next to her, cradling her in his arms.

"Always."

She glanced up at him.

"Ron?"

"Hmmm?"

"You can name him."

"Really?" he said enthusiastically. "You're serious?"

"Of course," she confirmed sleepily. "Anything... within reason. I named Rose, after all."

Ron frowned, deep in thought. Now that they were only going to be having two children, he decided that the second one's name needed to be an H, after Hermione. After all, Rose started with an R, and although that hadn't been done purposefully, it seemed to fit now.

"It's going to be an H," he whispered in her ear, watching as her lips quirked upwards from the tickling sensation.

"Sounds sweet," she replied, shifting her head closer to his chest.

He ran a hand through her hair, feeling his fingers get caught up in the knots. Brilliant woman she was, she'd done it again. She'd given birth to his child. She really was the most amazing person he knew. She was a fantastic mother, a beautiful woman, a phenomenal wife, and smart as hell.

"Hermione," Ron said quietly, shifting his gaze from the tiled ceiling and down to her still face. "You're honestly the most wonderful person I've ever met." He could see a soft smile grow on her face in spite of her closed lids, and he leaned down and kissed each eyelid tenderly. "I'm serious. You are absolutely perfect. I'm pretty sure I fall in love with you a little bit more every day. Every time I see you with Rose or when you wake up in the morning and your hair is all messy, I fall for you all over again. It's never old with you, and it's never really bad." She was silent. He frowned and closed his eyes, listening to the sound of her breathing. Of course. She'd fallen asleep while he was talking. He kissed her shortly on the lips, then the cheek, before pulling back and sighing. "It's alright. I'll write that down so I can reuse it on our anniversary."


	27. Chapter Twenty-seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because sometimes, to fall asleep, all you need is your best friend. Your boyfriend. Your fiancee. Your wife. Your soul mate. A collection of 30 moments in a lifetime during which Ron and Hermione just couldn't fall asleep.

**Chapter Twenty-Seven**   
_September, 2017_

"We should have told her. We really, really should have told her."

A loud groan over on the bed told Hermione that Ron was still awake and listening to her every word.

"Would you please get over this?" he begged. "It's too late."

"She's leaving for Hogwarts in eleven hours!" said Hermione shrilly. "And we didn't tell her!"

"We did try," Ron pointed out logically.

Hermione paused and turned towards him, annoyance on her face. She didn't exactly know whether it was at Ron or herself, but it was her most prevalent emotion at the moment. She'd been pacing since she and Ron had tucked Rose in for bed. Her husband, on the other hand, had been trying to get his well deserved sleep. It wasn't working out too well. He hadn't been able to fall asleep in all the time she'd been pacing- he'd never been able to. There was something about her agitated movements that kept him awake. That or the cold, empty space on the bed next to him.

She didn't understand, however, how he could say they had tried. They hadn't- not really. Because, though she was loathe to admit it, there was a huge part of them that didn't want Rose to know. That dreaded the day that their daughter found out the fact that the stories about Henry, Ryan, and Heather were real. She was extremely astute for an eleven year old, yet she had not figured it out. This was largely due to how sheltered she was. Rarely did Rose enter the magical world, and the events of her parents' childhood were never spoken of at the Burrow. Ron and Hermione had told Rose a completely different version of their first kiss when she had asked (for the record, the proposal story had been slightly edited, as well). It was not nearly as good as Heather and Ryan's first kiss, but in Rose's mind that kiss was just a remarkable work of her mother's imagination. All stories of Ron and Hermione's school years had been moments spent in the Gryffindor common room or at the Burrow or in classes. None of them had centered around the events that always seemed to take place at the end of the year, and the events of 1998 were hardly ever talked about even in the Golden Trio stories. That was simply too difficult.

Hermione quirked a grin, remembering an observation Rose had made while her father was re-telling the story of Henry, Heather, Ryan, Lana, Nate, and Virginia heading off to the Ministry of Magic to stop Riddle from hurting Henry's godfather. She'd commented on how polite Riddle was, in that he always waited until the end of the year to uproot Henry's entire world. Hermione and Ron had spent ten minutes simply gaping at each other- the thought had never occurred to them before. They had showered Rose with praise and kisses and she'd had absolutely no idea what they were so excited about.

"We definitely didn't try hard enough," Hermione decided.

"Oh, hard enough?" Ron said lightly. "Yeah, that I can agree on. When I said we tried I meant we tried a little bit. Not nearly as much as we should have."

Hermione grabbed her pillow from the bed and lobbed it at him.

"How can you be so cavalier about this?" she barked. "We may have completely wrecked our child's trust in us! She's bound to go to school and be told about our lives by all of the other kids, and then she's going to figure out that we've been straight-up lying to her for eleven years, Ron."

"Look, I'm not happy about this either," Ron admitted honestly. "Matter of fact, I feel really guilty about it. That in mind, there isn't much we can do about it."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, what are we supposed to do? Casually mention during breakfast that we're Heather and Ryan? How exactly would that go?  _Good morning love, here's the cereal. By the way, all those bedtime stories we told you about Henry, Heather and Ryan were actually about us. Incidentally, you were conceived during a snow storm, Santa Claus isn't real, and Crookshanks did not, in fact, get sent to a farm_."

Hermione paused for a moment, considering his words. Then she said,

"She knows that Santa isn't real."

Ron groaned loudly and threw a pillow at her. Hermione let it hit her, staring as it slid to the floor.

"We should wake her up."

Ron looked horrified.

"Haven't you ever heard that you should never wake a sleeping baby?"

"She's eleven years old," Hermione snapped.

"Same thing," Ron grumbled.

"We really should!" Hermione said, adamant.

"Okay, I'll rephrase that. Never wake a sleeping Rosie. She'll bite your head off, thus killing you. Better?"

Hermione raised her eyebrows at him, looking so angry Ron recoiled slightly.

"Hermione, love, it's too late. Rose is probably asleep by now and we don't want to wake her up- the morning's going to be hectic enough as it is, for the love of Merlin. I think the only thing we can do is hope that someone really nice tells her at Hogwarts and she isn't angry at us for too many years."

"Please," Hermione snorted, "This is Rose we're talking about, Ron. She can hold a grudge for eternity."

Ron winced.

"Yeah, you're right."

They stood there in silence, each contemplating the next course of action. Suddenly, Hermione shuddered.

"I'm a little scared."

"Why?" he asked, thinking he already knew the answer.

"She's going to  _Hogwarts._ When did she turn eleven? God, when did she get past eight? It's all been such a... well, a blur. I don't know what I'm going to do when I can't see her every day, talk to her every day. I know how distanced Hogwarts students are from their parents, and I don't want to have to go through that with my daughter. We're so, so close now and I feel like by sending her there I'm going to loose her. Plus, I'm scared of what's going to happen to her while she's there. What if she can't find her Harry and Ron? What if she gets mixed in with the wrong crowd by accident? What if something happens to her that is similar to what happened to _us_? I need her years there to be normal!"

He blinked up at her, taking in the onslaught of information his wife had just shared. Then he simply opened his arms and allowed her to fall into them. He stroked her hair as she closed her eyes and listened to the steady beats of his heart. She needed that right now- the steadiness. Her baby was going to Hogwarts, and the entire dynamic of the house would change. But Ron, wonderful Ron, would be completely the same. The man she'd fallen in love with, the man she'd married, the man she'd had two children with, and she couldn't think of a better person to experience this painful day alongside.

"Everything's going to be fine," he whispered to her. "Nothing's going to go wrong at Hogwarts- Rose will have all of her nosy cousins there to get her through it, plus Al will probably be in all of her classes. She's so smart, just like you, so she's going to be absolutely amazing in all of her classes. She'll find friends just as smart as she is- or she'll find two blithering idiots and take pity on them. One will probably be Al. As for the growing apart... well, sweetheart, it's sort of inevitable, isn't it? Teenagers always grow apart from their parents- I sure as hell did. But I also sorted out my priorities in time and figured out that family is quite important, even though it put me through hell most of my childhood. I think you and I are going to have to depend on the fact that after she leaves Hogwarts you'll have the ability to be closer than ever."

She stared at him for a second, then reached up a finger to lovingly trace the length of his nose.

"When did you get so smart?"

Ron beamed up at her, obviously proud of his accomplishment.

"About the time I decided to propose to you."

She laughed loudly, leaning down to drop a sweet kiss on his lips. His hand came up to her hair, pulling her closer, and the other one moved to the hem of her nightshirt, pulling  _up up up_ -

"Mum? Dad?"

There was a loud, persistent knocking on the door and Hermione and Ron jumped a mile. Hermione quickly rolled off of Ron, a guilty expression crossing her face as she tugged her shirt back down.

"Our children always have impeccable timing," Ron hissed, and Hermione shushed him before waving her wand to unlock the door.

"Come on in, Rosie!" she said lightly, and Rose turned the knob and walked into the room.

Her red curls, texture inherited from Grandma Granger and color from Grandma Weasley, were tussled from constant tossing and turning on her pillow. Her brown eyes were wide and slightly red around the edges. She wore a Chudley Canon's shirt and black pajama bottoms. She was already promising to have Hermione's height and Ron's temper, while Hugo was heading towards Ron's height and Hermione's temperament.

"What's up, Rosie?" Ron inquired, and Rose's face crumpled.

"I'm scared," she muttered.

Hermione and Ron exchanged knowing glances, then Hermione pulled back the covers between them and Ron patted the space on the bed. It was just like when she was little and used to have nightmares. She'd run into their room and spend the rest of the night sleeping between them. It was worse when Rose and Hugo had been young and afraid of thunderstorms. They'd  _both_ run into their parents' bedroom, then fought over who got to stay until Ron and Hermione had decided they needed a bigger bed. It seemed silly now, because their children hardly ever needed to sleep in their room anymore, and they usually occupied the same space while they were sleeping.

"C'mere, Rose," Ron said, and she hopped onto the bed between her parents. Hermione hugged her daughter while Ron placed a light kiss on her hair.

"What are you scared of?" Hermione questioned softly.

" _Everything,_ " Rose replied emphatically.

"You're going to have to elaborate a little, love," Ron chuckled, and Rose shot him an annoyed look.

"Don't  _laugh_ ," she said. "You have no idea how this feels!"

Ron cocked an eyebrow.

"Really?"

Rose hesitated.

"Do you?"

"We went to Hogwarts too, sweetie," Hermione reminded her. "We've already done what you're about to do. I think we know very well what you're going through."

Rose looked exasperated.

"Yes, but you two can do no wrong! You're  _perfect._ I bet you had no issues while you were at Hogwarts."

Hermione and Ron both let out little snorts of mirth, then stopped quickly when they noticed the anger on their child's face.

"Sorry, dear," Hermione said. "But we faced a  _lot_ of issues while we were at Hogwarts."

"And I'm sure you'll have to deal with some of them, but others... not so much," Ron added.

"Now why don't you tell us exactly what you're worried about and see if we can't quell your fears a little bit?"

"Promise not to laugh?" Rose whispered, her face looking rather vulnerable.

"Promise," Ron said, and next to him Hermione nodded.

Rose started in.

"What if I can't find my way around the school?"

"Do you know how many times Uncle Harry and I got lost within the first week?" Ron asked her. "A lot. A lot, a lot. We got lost  _constantly,_ actually. But you, Rosie, inherited your mother's mind, and you'll be able to find your way around within the first two days."

"If you get lost, ask for help," Hermione suggested sensibly.

"You have a dozen or so cousins milling about the school, I believe," Ron reminded her.

"Plus you're great friends with Professor Longbottom. And Aunt Luna's sons are second years, so they'll be able to help you if you get lost."

"Don't ask any Slytherins for help," Ron advised her knowingly. "They'll take advantage."

"Ron!" Hermione said shrilly. "Stop trying to pit her against the other houses before the spirit of the school forces her to do that anyways!"

"What do you mean?" Rose asked, wide eyed.

Hermione and Ron exchanged sarcastic  _nice job_ glances.

"Hogwarts is a bit... competitive," Hermione said tentatively.

"Understatement," Ron cut in. "Every house that isn't Gryffindor is full of complete losers that all wish they  _were_ in Gryffindor."

Rose looked alarmed.

"But what if I'm not in Gryffindor!"

" _Ron_!" Hermione growled. "Rose, Gryffindor is not the only good house at Hogwarts. Ravenclaw is excellent- it's purple themed, your favorite color. And everyone in it is very witty and clever."

"So why weren't you put in Ravenclaw?" Rose asked curiously.

"Easy," Ron replied. "So she could marry me."

Hermione and Rose rounded on him.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Rose asked, wide eyed.

"Well we wouldn't be such good friends if we were in different houses, would we? Actually, we probably wouldn't be friends at all. And then, more likely than not, you wouldn't be here."

 _More likely than not_? Hermione mouthed at Ron, but he just smirked and ignored this.

"How's Hufflepuff?" asked Rose.

"Hufflepuff is a lovely house," Hermione promised. "Everyone in it possesses fantastic qualities that everyone should have. See? All the houses are just wonderful."

"I think you forgot one," Rose frowned.

"Yes, Hermione, which house was that?" Ron said, feigning confusion. His expression cleared. "Oh, I know! Slytherin!"

"Is Slytherin a good house, mummy?" Rose asked.

Hermione turned red and conducted an internal argument with herself for about three minutes while her husband shook with suppressed laughter. Oh, he was going to get it later.

"I... er... well..."

"We hate Slytherin, sweetie," Ron said flatly. "No way around it."

Rose looked to her mother for confirmation.

"Yes, that's true," Hermione sighed, giving up. "I can't think of a civil thing to say about a single one of the Slytherins we went to school with- but that isn't to say that the house has gotten better since we've been there, Rosie. Don't judge people by their houses, judge them by their actions and personalities."

"And, of course, looks," Ron said.

Hermione's mouth popped open in outrage.

" _What_?" she hissed.

"Well, your mother always went for people based on looks," Ron said.

"What?" Hermione screeched again. "Ron-"

"There was Lockhart-"

"A stupid crush!"

"McLaggen-"

"Oh, please."

"Krum-"

"Looks? What looks?"

"Really daddy?" Rose giggled.

"Of course," Ron said, ruffling her hair. "Why else do you think she would have married me?"

Rose collapsed against the pillows in a fit of giggles, and Hermione tried not to laugh at the crazy antics of her husband.

"You're absurd, Ron," she whispered in his ear.

"Are you saying you didn't marry me because I'm handsome? You think I'm ugly?"

Hermione shook her head.

"You're gorgeous, love. It's just not the reason I married you. More like a bonus."

"Fair enough," Ron said happily. "I'll take it."

Rose straightened up and Hermione brushed her bangs away from her face.

"Anything else you're afraid of Rosie?"

Rose frowned.

"What if I can't make friends?"

Hermione's breath caught in her throat. This was what she was most nervous about. Rose was an amazing little girl, but she was just as studious as Hermione and just as competitive as Ron, a deadly combination. Hermione knew how amazing Rose was, and Ron knew it, and everyone in the Weasley family did. But Hermione's concern was that people would see Rose Weasley as an intimidating or obnoxious girl and therefore treat her just like Hermione herself had been treated when she'd first started Hogwarts.

"Of course you'll make friends," Ron said easily. "You're Rose Weasley- you can do anything."

"But what if no one likes me?"

Hermione closed her eyes, controlling herself. Then she said,

"Why would no one like you? You, my dear, are the most special girl in the whole wide world, and you're going to blow them all away with the wonder that is you. Just don't make the same mistakes I did, Rose. Don't be a know-it-all, don't raise your hand for every question. Give other people a chance to shine. It won't dim your light."

This was spoken by a woman who had spent half her life being bullied for her personality, and while the name Hermione Weasley commanded far too much respect to have her bullied in her workplace, to this day she knew that she drove some people crazy. She would not allow Rose to make the same mistakes she had. It would be a stupid thing to do.

Rose grew quiet, staring between her parents. A tear suddenly slid down her cheek, then another one, and another one.

"I'm going to miss you two so much," she mumbled, diving into Ron's arms for a hug. "What am I going to do if I have to make a choice and I can't talk it out with you two?"

Hermione felt tears rise to her eyes and let herself cry a little, maternal instinct overpowering any will to be strong. Rose was so astute for her age, and it never failed to amaze her. Ron reached over and brushed a tear from her eye while stroking Rose's hair with his other hand. He looked like he was struggling to be the strong one in the group. Hermione knew he wouldn't cry over this, but he'd be quite mopey for the next few days after Rose left. She would too. They'd be grumpy together, and it would probably drive Hugo crazy.

"Oh Rose," she sighed. "You're going to be fine. You're so smart- you don't need us. We trust you. We trust you more than anything."

"Honest to goodness?" Rose asked, blinking up at her mother under her father's arm.

"Honest to goodness," Hermione said.

"Prove it." Rose said.

Hermione and Ron exchanged glances, then nodded. Ron lifted Rose from his embrace and set her on the bed, facing both her parents.

"We're going to prove we trust you, Rose," he said seriously, "but you have to be very strong about this, okay?"

"And promise not to be mad!" Hermione begged desperately. Ron rolled his eyes.

"Mad?" Rose said wonderingly.

"Remember those stories we always tell you?" Ron asked slowly.

"Yes..." Rose said. "You're talking about Henry, Heather and Ryan?"

"Exactly," Hermione said quietly. "Well... the thing is... about that..."

"The stories are true, Rose," Ron said, voice low.

"True?" Rose asked, her voice squeaky.

"Furthermore," Hermione put in, voice shaking, "they're about us. Uncle Harry is Henry. I'm Heather. Daddy's Ryan. Get it? Harry, Hermione, and Ron."

Rose sat there for a few minutes, registering this, her small mouth open wide.

"S... so you got past all those obstacles to get to the Sorcerer's Stone?"

"Yes," Hermione sighed.

"And you faced all those spiders?"

"Yup," Ron said.

"And you traveled through time?"

"Uh-huh," was Hermione's reply.

"And Uncle Harry actually fought in a tournament when he was fourteen?"

"Unfortunately," Ron muttered.

"Are you pulling my wand?" Rose demanded.

"I wish we were," Hermione admitted.

Rose frowned.

"Hang on..." she said slowly. "Which one was your first kiss?"

"What?" Ron said, puzzled.

"Well, you've told me about two first kisses. One was at the Burrow before you and mum left for your final year at Hogwarts. And one was so much more romantic! Heather and Ryan's was in the middle of a battle that... oh my God, was the battle real?"

Ron gaped at Hermione, shocked that a child could be thinking about romance after such a huge proclamation. Hermione was trying not to laugh.

"Yeah the battle was real!" Ron said impatiently. "There was a whole lot of carnage, too!"

"Our first kiss was Heather and Ryan's. The other one was made up... daddy actually never went back to Hogwarts."

Rose's eyes grew as wide as galleons.

"Merlin! Mum, you actually made the first move? That was amazing! That kiss was breathtaking!"

"I thought so too," Ron interjected, and Rose rounded on him.

"Why didn't you finish your education? However did you get a job?"

Ron shot an alarmed glance in Hermione's direction, but she just grinned at him, still basking in the glow of their daughter's compliment.

"Er... well, after the war they needed recruits to round up Death Eaters, and I was sort of a good choice seeing as I'd spent months on the run chasing after Horcruxes-"

"Horcruxes?"

"RON!" Hermione yelled.

"Oops," he said weakly.

Hermione shook her head, trying to clear it.

"Okay, Rose. You have an hour to ask us any questions you want to. When that hour is up you have to go to sleep. Deal?"

She nodded, and they spent the next hour answering questions, thinking about things they hadn't thought of in a while. Some things were not brought up. Hermione had never told Rose about her torture even in stories, and didn't intend to for a very long time. Overall, Rose seemed to take it quite well, although she was a bit all over the place with her emotions. One minute she was in awe, the next she was filled with aching curiosity, and the next she was so angry at them for keeping secrets she could barely speak. Finally she slipped under the covers and rested her head on Hermione's pillow, back to Ron. The three of them lay there in silence for a while until Rose suddenly spoke.

"You know what I'm most excited about?" she asked in undertone.

"What?" Hermione replied, nuzzling Rose's nose with hers. Rose smiled peacefully.

"Tomorrow I get to meet my future husband."

Ron was up in a shot, alarm on his face.

"What?" he cried, his voice slightly more high pitched than usual. "What are you talking about?"

Rose looked vexed.

"Well... doesn't everyone meet their future spouse on their first day of school?"

"What gave you that impression?" Hermione wanted to know.

"You and dad," Rose listed, "Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny, Uncle Neville and Aunt Hannah."

"Rose, that isn't necessarily going to happen," Hermione said gently. "I mean, think of Uncle Percy and Aunt Audrey. They didn't meet until he was working at the Ministry. And Uncle Bill and Aunt Fleur didn't meet until he was way out of school and she was seventeen."

"You will not be meeting any prospective husbands tomorrow," Ron growled, oblivious to Hermione's reasonable reasoning. "Stay away from all boys!"

Hermione exchanged an amused glance with Rose.

"He gets like that a lot."

"Seriously?" Rose giggled.

"Yes, he's a freak, actually. He was even worse in school."

Rose laughed harder.

"Then why'd you marry him?"

Hermione looked over at Ron, who was still a little red and whose face was contorted into a look of fury. The idea of Rose dating had never seemed to have crossed his mind before, and it was rather amusing to watch him realize for the first time that his daughter would inevitably grow up.

"Oh, I don't mind it at all."

"Why?" Rose asked again.

"Because," Hermione said, leaning down and whispering it in Rose's ear as though it was a secret, "when he gets like this it means he loves you."

And that was absolutely true.


	28. Chapter Twenty-eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because sometimes, to fall asleep, all you need is your best friend. Your boyfriend. Your fiancee. Your wife. Your soul mate. A collection of 30 moments in a lifetime during which Ron and Hermione just couldn't fall asleep.

**Chapter Twenty-Eight**

_September: 2019_

Empty. That was how this house felt. Empty. Because for the first time there was no sound of bickering children, no laughter ringing through the rooms, no model broomsticks left on the floor for Hermione to trip over. Rose was entering her third year at Hogwarts and Hugo had just left for his first. Her little boy had flown the coop. Her beautiful baby boy was off to Hogwarts, leaving both of his parents spitting out the dust he'd left behind in this empty, empty house. For the past few weeks Hermione had been subject to a thousand different emotions. Excitement at finally having the house to herself again. Dread at not seeing her son every day. Thrill at being able to take up some semblance of the relationship she and Ron had been enjoying before they had Rose. Fear that Hugo might not do well at Hogwarts. Happiness because her children were growing up. Depression because her children were  _growing up_. Ron had been there for every mood change, and it seemed that every time her mood swung his did the opposite. They'd spent the past few weeks taking turns comforting each other from the all consuming emotions and trying to save face for Rose and Hugo. Hermione, Ron, Harry, and Ginny had watched the train roll away with completely dumbstruck looks on each of their faces. That was it. The primary part of each child's childhood was over. They were empty nesters.

Usually Muggle parents became empty nesters about seven years after Hogwarts parents did. Hermione had always thought she would lose her children at a much later age- never had she expected her time with them to be so fleeting. She was a part-time mum now. Only two months of the year and a few weeks in between were dedicated to parenting her children. It felt simply odd to be without them- for the past thirteen years, Rose and Hugo had been  _everything_. She'd helped them study, cleaned their rooms with them, cooked dinner based on their likes and dislikes. Now she was useless to them. The house-elves of Hogwarts had all but replaced her. Yes, Rose still wrote for advice and as she grew older and more mature she remained close to her mother. But it just wasn't the same as Rose crawling into her lap, sobbing onto her shoulder, and begging her for counseling on things that had seemed so big back then but had long since become insignificant. Looking back, Hermione saw the way she had pulled away from her own mother once she went to Hogwarts. Now, her deepest fear was that the same thing would happen to her and Rosie or her and Hugo. She could not lose her daughter and she refused to lose her son, too. She wouldn't let what had happened to her and her own parents to happen to her and her children.

Rolling over in bed, Hermione reached over to the nightstand and grabbed the letter that lay there. It had arrived a few hours ago, scribbled in messy, excited handwriting. Hugo had spent three pages lamenting on how big and beautiful Hogwarts was. Ron had given a great cheer at the news that their son had gotten into Gryffindor along with Al, Rose, James, and Lily. To this day, no Weasley had been sorted into a house other than Gryffindor. While the parents and grandparents were thrilled, Hermione had also become slightly nervous when she had come to terms with the fact that (with the aid of a new generation of troublemakers) Gryffindor had become a bit more of a party-house than it had been when Hermione and Ron were at school. Ron had pointed out, however, that both their children were so studious they could probably use a bit of partying in their lives. Hermione had dithered between agreeing with him and disagreeing with him until he'd laughed, kissed her on the lips, and told her it was no wonder she was nearly a hat stall because sometimes she acted like the worst brand of Ravenclaw. At that point, Ron had reminded Hermione of how miserable she'd been during their third year when she hadn't had time to do anything but study. He'd proven his point beautifully and she had been reminded again of why she fell in love with him in the first place.

The evening had been strange. Hermione, forgetting that Hugo was at Hogwarts with his sister, made dinner for three. Ron had set the table for four. They'd headed to Hugo's room to make sure he was sleeping about eleven times, forgetting he wasn't there. It seemed that suddenly everything, all the little things they did every night, became so entirely useless. Their little traditions and nightly chores became nonexistent because their son wasn't home. The sight of Ron happily pulling out his money for the ice-cream truck, then crestfallenly realizing that Hugo wasn't there to get the ice-creams had nearly broken Hermione's heart. His face had been absolutely devastated, as though he had only just come to the realization that he wouldn't have a Quidditch buddy on Sunday mornings anymore, and no one would want to listen to the Cannons games with him anymore. Hermione hadn't known what to do- she'd just stood there and watched as Ron walked up to Hugo's room, sat on his bed, and began reading his Quidditch books. Hermione had sat next to him with her copy of Les Miserables and softly hummed

'On My Own'. It was a reminder of their humble beginnings, and how far they'd gotten since that night in fifth year when Hermione couldn't sleep.

A sudden noise in the house startled Hermione from her thoughts, and she bolted up in bed, alarm on her face.

"Ron?" she whispered.

He instantly opened one bleary eye, proving to his wife that he had been sleeping just as much as she had.

"Yeah?"

"Did you hear something?"

He paused, thinking. Then,

"Nope."

Hermione looked confused.

"Nothing at all?"

Ron shook his head, looking at her in a bemused fashion.

"No, Hermione."

She sat there for a second, musing, until her eyes brightened and she looked over at Ron with excitement on her face.

"Maybe he's back!"

"Maybe who's back?"

"Hugo! Maybe he's come back from Hogwarts!"

"Why would he do that?" Ron inquired, now a little amused at the silly hope his wife was

clinging to.

"He probably missed us," Hermione suggested excitedly.

"Did it sound like he missed us in his letter?" Ron questioned, trying to reason with her.

"Well, no-"

"And even if he did, how would he get here?"

Hermione thought about this, her excitement dimming considerably until she brightened again.

"What if he got expelled?"

"Hugo? Expelled? You gave birth to the wrong type of child for that. Besides, we would have

gotten a letter from McGonagall."

"Maybe he found the flying car in the forbidden forest and drove it home!"

"It's probably run out of gas by now," Ron fibbed, hoping Hermione's Muggle upbringing and her exhaustion would help along the lie that the enchanted car actually needed gas to run. "You know, seeing as it's been over three decades."

"I'm going to go check," Hermione said decisively as she threw back the covers.

"Whoa!" Ron said, throwing out an arm to stop her. "No you're not! Why would you?"

"He could be looking for us!"

"He isn't looking for us because he's at Hogwarts asleep in his bed, honey."

"But what if he isn't?" she argued.

"But he is," Ron pointed out, pushing her back onto the bed. "Stop worrying. Hugo's not here, he's at school, and he's fine. Just like Rose. The noise is probably coming from the dog."

Hermione had to concede to this, as Otter had been pining over Hugo's departure all day and was probably the source of the noise.

"Alright," she sighed, and she dropped a little kiss onto Ron's lips to thank him for restoring her

sanity. Realization that they were all alone in the house struck them almost immediately and it wasn't long before their kisses grew more passionate, even feverish. As soon as Ron lifted Hermione's nightshirt off, her instincts kicked in and she grabbed her wand and cast a locking and silencing charm on the door.

"Hermione," Ron said, pulling back and sounding slightly annoyed. "We don't need to do that anymore. There are no kids in the house."

"Sorry!" she said hastily, and then she went back to kissing him.

"Remove the charms then," Ron suggested as he pulled away.

Hermione looked torn.

"Why?"

"Because we don't need them and to have them in is kind of stupid."

Hermione took a deep, nervous breath and waved her wand. The charms disappeared. Ron set to kissing her again, hands roaming all over her-

"I can't!"

She reached over, grabbed the wand, and recast the charms. Ron stared at her, then the door, then back at her. He looked a little bit shocked, then amused, then disgusted.

"What's going on, Hermione?"

Hermione looked a bit surprised at herself. She sighed and collapsed against the pillows.

"I don't know! The idea of making love when the door isn't locked and the silencing charms aren't in place literally scares me."

Ron sighed, crawling off of her and flopping onto the pillows on his back. She stared at the ceiling, he stared at her.

"I understand."

Hermione let out a short laugh.

"No you don't."

Ron pulled a face.

"You're right, I don't. Maybe it's because I'm male."

"Probably," Hermione conceded, much more amicably than she was feeling.

"Help me then, will you?"

He watched as Hermione's face contorted in thought, watched as her finger lightly trailed across the soft fabric of her pillowcase.

"It's been branded into me," she said finally.

"Branded?"

"Ingrained. Locking the door before sex has been such a necessary precaution for the past thirteen years I've forgotten what it's like to be able to just go at it anytime, anywhere."

"And...?" Ron asked, sensing that Hermione wasn't done yet.

"I guess," she said slowly, "the kids have sort of defined our lives over the past thirteen years, haven't they? A part of me thinks I've spent more time being mummy than Hermione."

He squinted at her, considering this. Then he kissed her shoulder.

"You're right. I'm sorry, Hermione. It does feel weird, doesn't it? Like it did before we were married. We're too old to act like that now, though, so it's not as fun, is it?"

Hermione laughed.

"Too old to act like that? Oh please, love- we act like that and have acted like that every day of our marriage. The difference is that we've learned to tone it down... and it's just not the same anymore."

"So what happens now?" Ron asked quietly.

"I happen to have an excellent idea, actually," Hermione said with a smidgen of smugness in her voice.

"You always were the brilliant one. Let's hear it, them."

"We fall back in love," Hermione said simply.

For a second, Ron just sat there as he felt the wound open.

"What?" he cried. "When were we not in love?"

Hermione raised a placating hand.

"Alright, I'm sorry, let me rephrase that."

"Please do," spat Ron, still looking rather put out.

"I only mean that we haven't been the people we were for a very long time. We've been so consumed with parenting we've forgotten what it's like to be Hermione and Ron versus mum and dad. We never go out anymore, or hold hands while we walk down the street, or even cuddle on the couch because Rose and Hugo always complain about it and make retching noises. Honestly, Ron, our life has been completely overrun with the little things. And as much as I love the little things, I'm sick of the big things being confined to Valentine's Day and our anniversary."

"Sounds good to me," Ron admitted. "God, I miss going out to dinner and People Watching and not being too exhausted at night to even talk to each other before bed."

"Me too," she whispered, and when he kissed her deeply she allowed herself to get swept up in it. Pulling back for air, Hermione leaned her forehead against Ron's and whispered, "I think I missed you."

He chuckled.

"You missed me?"

"'Ron' Ron instead of 'daddy' Ron."

"Oh. In that case, I kind of missed me, too. Much as I love being daddy Ron, because you know I do."

Hermione kissed his nose.

"Want to do something fun?"

Ron winked at her.

"Is it kinky?"

Hermione slapped his arm.

"Not that. We can do that later."

"Oh," Ron said, looking slightly dejected. "Alright, what?"

"We could get a bottle of champagne, some brownies, and just watch our wedding video."

Ron wrinkled his nose.

"No thank you. I don't want you comparing me to him. You'll leave me."

"Him?" Hermione asked, smiling slightly. "Who's 'him'?"

"Young me," Ron said as though this were obvious. "It's been fifteen years- surely you realize how ugly I've gotten."

Hermione looked scandalized. She shook her head adamantly, frowning.

"Don't be daft!"

"I'm not. I'm telling the truth about the unfortunate fact that I've become an ugly old sod."

"Don't talk about my husband that way," Hermione chided.

"I'm serious."

"As I'm I. I think you're gorgeous," Hermione told. "Totally gorgeous, very handsome indeed."

Ron grinned.

"Alright, enough inflating my ego. Get the bloody wedding video. At least then I can do my 'I told you so' dance."

Hermione summoned everything she needed into their bedroom, placing the disk in their Muggle TV that had been a gift from her parents. They popped open the alcohol, turned on the video, and watched as the day played out before them. The first shot was Hermione getting ready for the wedding in Ginny's bedroom, Fleur attempting to sweep her hair into a pretty bun. The camera panned around the room, showing a much slimmer Ginny and a decidedly more radiant Hermione.

"Good merlin, you still have your baby fat," Ron snorted, causing Hermione to elbow him in the ribs.

"I do not!"

"Do too."

"Do n- oh, god, we're so immature."

They dissolved into laughter as the scene changed to a shot of Mr. Weasley. He was flushed with excitement, eyes bright with enthusiasm. And they watched. They watched their entire wedding play out before them, their perfect, fairytale wedding during which nothing had gone wrong. And even though Hermione remembered having no time to eat or pee, she still looked like she was having the time of her life. And even though Ron remembered being nervous as hell throughout the whole thing, he'd seemed happy and content and peaceful and just generally in love. The video ended with Hermione saying a few words to Ron, but they barely focused on that, as they were too giddy and giggly to pay attention to anything but each other.

They were snogging again, and Hermione marveled in the way it didn't seem like it had ever changed. She loved snogging Ron just as much as she had when they were young, before they had children, before they'd been together for more of their lives than they hadn't. Before he had become her husband but long after he'd become everything to her. Too much had changed, but some things had stayed the same and Hermione was surprised that this was one of them.

"Is it strange that I'm thirty eight years old and still love doing this with you?" Hermione breathed as Ron kissed her neck.

"Thirty nine in eighteen days, dear," Ron told her, and Hermione let out a moan that had very little to do with where Ron's mouth was heading. "No, it isn't."

"Good. Keep going."

He pulled back, face mischievous.

"Were you ever going to stop me?"

Hermione laughed.

"No, not at all."

"Hey, wanna do something crazy?" Ron asked, eyebrows rising suggestively.

Hermione looked weary.

"No, we're definitely too old for that."

"Not what I mean," Ron smirked. "I was merely alluding to the idea of not using locking or

silencing charms."

Hermione seemed to brace herself for about three minutes before nodding in a determined sort of way.

"Okay, I'm in."

Ron looked delighted.

"Great! While we're at it, do you want to make love with the door open?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, kissed his lips, then pulled his shirt over his head.

"Baby steps, love. Baby steps."


	29. Chapter Twenty-nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because sometimes, to fall asleep, all you need is your best friend. Your boyfriend. Your fiancee. Your wife. Your soul mate. A collection of 30 moments in a lifetime during which Ron and Hermione just couldn't fall asleep.

**Chapter Twenty-Nine**   
_July: 2031_

Everything was buzzing. His mind. His ears. His world. It seemed that everything had become uprooted in this one moment of his life. And the world Ron had so carefully built with his wife and children was falling to shit around him. How could this have happened? Hadn't Rose gone to Hogwarts for the first time only yesterday? When had she started liking boys? When had boys started liking her? When had she graduated? And when (really, when?) had she actually become old enough to get married? Married. Some stupid wanker wanted to take Ron's daughter away from him! Some idiot tosser wanted to propose to Rosie. This couldn't be, this couldn't happen. Rose was his baby, his little girl. She wasn't old enough for having her own children... was she?

Well, her age didn't matter. Regardless of her age, she still wasn't allowed to marry  _him,_ of all people. A fucking Malfoy. How could Ron's daughter become Rose Malfoy? Good Lord. How could his grandchildren be Malfoy's, too? How the hell was Draco fucking Malfoy supposed to be his daughter's father-in-law? And Ron would be sort of related to Malfoy as well. Bloody hell, this couldn't happen! He couldn't say yes! He didn't care about Hermione's argument against saying no ("he was brave and respectful enough to ask for your blessing, Ron Weasley. The least you could do is give it to him."). As far as he was concerned, the least he could do was not kick Malfoy's arse from their house to Timbuktu and back again. Which was what he should have done when the Ferret Jr. had started dating his baby girl in the first place. Timbuktu. Timbukfuckingtu.

A glance over at the bed told him that his very supportive wife was fast asleep, apparently entirely unaffected by the events of the day. Her face was peaceful, smiling, actually, and her thick hair was splayed across the pillow. Ron watched her chest softly rise and fall, her lips open a little bit, eyelashes tickling her skin. He felt a sudden rush of affection flood into his stomach at the familiar sight, which was replaced in an instant by a wave of frustration. How could she be sleeping at a time like this? Their little girl had been proposed to by a Malfoy! A Malfoy wanted to marry Rose and have babies with her and Hermione was just peacefully sleeping. Why wasn't she using that brilliant brain of hers to figure out a way for Ron to kill Scorpius (hereon known as 'the wanker'). Furiously, Ron made the choice to wake Hermione from her slumber, his need to rant to someone overpowering the fact that she was bound to annoy him with her logic and reasoning. He crept over to her side, moved her hair off of her face, then whispered her name into her ear. She didn't wake up. He lightly kissed her shoulder, then her neck, trailing his lips up to her earlobe. She didn't even stir. Annoyed, Ron shouted her name several times, but when nothing happened except a light stirring his temper got to him. Losing all sense, he grabbed a pillow and slammed it down onto her head. NOTHING! Feeling as though he had no choice, Ron employed the best tactic he had in his arsenal.

"HERMIONE!" he shouted. "Otter's eating your signed copy of  _Hogwarts, A History_!"

There was a screech as she jerked awake, eyes wild.

"OFF!" she yelled. "OTTER OFF! GET OFF YOU LITTLE-" she paused. "He isn't, is he?"

"Nope," Ron said. "Thanks for waking up, though."

Hermione moaned and lay back against the pillows.

"You were already in trouble when I went to bed, mister, but now you are in  _very_  deep water."

"Haven't you heard of never to going to bed angry?" Ron reasoned.

"Oh, haha. We go to bed angry all the time. We don't always sleep, but sometimes going to bed angry is your favorite kind of going to bed."

Ron smirked.

"Yep."

"Goodnight, dear," Hermione yawned, and then she closed her eyes.

"NO!" Ron shouted, smirk vanishing as he hit Hermione with the pillow again. "I need you!"

"I'm too tired. Maybe in the morning."

"Not in that way."

Hermione opened her eyes and raised an eyebrow.

"Do you honestly think I'm going to talk to you about the Scorpius situation and be on your side?"

Ron looked sheepish.

"Maybe."

"I've already made my position very clear on this," Hermione pointed out. "You don't like what I have to say."

"I was hoping you may have changed your mind while you were sleeping."

"Hmmm," Hermione said, tone dripping in sarcasm, "yes, sleep definitely effected whether or not I want my daughter to be happy."

"She'll be happy if she's not married to The Wanker!"

"No, Ron," Hermione said slowly. "She'll be happy if she gets to choose whether or not she does marry Scorpius. And, besides, I find him to be a perfectly lovely boy. Astoria did a wonderful job on him."

"He's Malfoy's spawn!" Ron spat at her.

"He isn't his father, Ron," Hermione hissed forcefully. "Do NOT forget that." He was taken aback by how angry she was, but in an instant the animosity was gone as she said, "I suppose you aren't going to let me sleep now?" and picked up a book and her reading glasses. She placed them lightly on her nose and opened the book, placing it neatly on her knees and opening it to the page marked with a little Gryffindor flag that Hugo had sent her last year when he'd been in his final year of Hogwarts. Ron was quiet for a moment, staring at her.

"Why do you like him so much?" he whispered. "Why do you think he's good enough to marry Rosie?"

Hermione glanced up at him, peering at him over her glasses in a way that reminded him of Professor Dumbledore.

"I like him so much because... well, sometimes their story reminds me of ours."

"What?" he spluttered after a second of surprise. "How could you say that?"

"Well," Hermione started, "for one, they were friends first."

"So?" Ron replied scathingly. "Lots of people are friends first, Hermione."

"For another thing," Hermione continued, "they used to fight a lot, but I suppose that was mainly due to sexual frustration- not unlike how it was with us. They come from two very different worlds that met when they came to Hogwarts. Everyone knew they were supposed to be together before they did. They have a friend that was the third wheel when they got together- Albus. And they're so, so in love, Ron. Just like we were. Just like we are, to this day. Don't you want Rose to have what we have? We got so lucky when we found each other- we were meant to be the whole time. We've been together since 1998 and we have never wavered away from each other once.  _That_  is happy."

"He's... he's still a Malfoy," Ron said weakly. "You know that, right?"

"He's a nice boy, Ron Weasley. And you know what?" she continued. "I don't think you dislike him because he's a Malfoy. I think you dislike him so much because he's trying to take away your baby girl. Don't bring his family into this. His last name is just an excuse."

"Yes, but I-"

"Another thing- he was in Gryffindor, dear. I think he must be quite different from his father. He's probably the black sheep of the family. And, as a woman, I can tell you that Scorpius is much more handsome than his father. Good God, Draco was probably the ugliest student at Hogwarts besides Millicent B-"

"I just wish," Ron growled, cutting her off, "that I had never allowed the two of them to date in the first place!"

"Yes, because that would have worked!" Hermione said sarcastically. "Honestly, Ron, there's nothing you could have done worse than that. Besides not letting them get married, of course."

"He's a pig!" Ron protested. "It would have been-"

"Let me ask you something," Hermione interrupted. "Where is Rose right now?"

"Er- at home, I suppose."

"No, I mean in her life."

"She's... she's a Healer," Ron said obviously, looking at Hermione as though she were mad.

"Now, would you consider this to be a good job for a young lady to have?"

"Yes!"

"Are you proud of her?"

"Of course!"

"Has she ever gotten less than an O on anything in her entire life?"

"No..."

"Does she smile a lot?"

"More than a lot."

"So what exactly is your issue with Scorpius?"

Ron gaped at her.

"What does The Wanker have to do with any of those things? That was all Rose!"

"Do you think Harry would have been able to kill those Horcruxes without us? Do you think I would have been able to give birth without you by my side that first time? Do you think the Founders of Hogwarts would have been able to build such a successful learning environment without each other? No! Everyone has someone that they lean on, and for Rose that person is Scorpius. He's been there for her through everything- everything, Ron- and he's supported every decision she's ever made. He has always been there for her, just as you've always been there for me. If he loves her, and I know he does, he will continue to be there for her for the rest of her life. That's what he's asking your permission to do. Be there for her. Make her happy. How could you deny him that when you know it's the best for her?"

"But how do you know?" Ron asked, frustrated. "How do you know that he loves her?"

"Oh, that's easy," Hermione chuckled. "Frankly, he looks at her just as you look at me. You may not see it, but next time you look at them together watch for that house-elfish, adoring, awe-struck look. You'll find it quite evident on his face."

Ron puffed up indignantly.

"What? I do not look at you like I'm a bloody-"

His tirade was put to a half by a loud banging noise and a voice screaming itself hoarse. Hermione and Ron exchanged confused glances, and Hermione immediately swung her legs off of the bed and hurried to the door. She quickly left the room and hastily ran to the door to swing it open. There stood Rose, her fingers clutching onto her brother's ear, wearing a white tank top, a blue pair of pajamas with bunnies on them, and pigtails.

"Where is he?" Rose growled. "Where is dad?"

Hermione smiled calmly.

"Good to see you too, dear. I must say- that's a very becoming pair of pajama bottoms."

"WHERE IS HE?" Rose shrieked, grip on Hugo tightening.

"OW!" he bellowed. "Rose, get off! It hurts so bad!"

"Rose, release your brother," Ron said, appearing at Hermione's shoulder.

"YOU!" Rose screamed. " _YOU_!"

"Me?" Ron repeated, confused. "What about me?"

"YOU TOLD HIM YOU'D THINK ABOUT IT? HOW COULD YOU TELL HIM YOU'D THINK ABOUT IT?"

Panic instantly crossed Ron's face.

"How'd you find out about that?"

"Your darling son! I wheedled it out of him. I knew he'd had dinner with the two of you and when Scorpius disappeared for a few hours I knew where he'd gone because I'd found the ring."

"Did you?" Hermione interjected excitedly. "How is it?"

"Ooooh, mum, it's gorgeous!" Rose gushed. "It's quite large, actually, but not too large, so it still looks real, and-"

"Can we get on with this?" Hugo begged. "My ear is really starting to hurt."

"It is your own fault, honey. After all, you spilled the beans," Hermione pointed out.

"It's not my fault!" Hugo argued indignantly. "She came to my place screaming bloody murder and literally ripped me off of my girlfriend, then dragged me over here speaking incoherent sentences with a face growing progressively redder. Which is not very attractive, I might add," he said snootily, turning to his sister.

"You're not in a very good position to be insulting her, mate," Ron muttered, stealing frightened glances at his daughter.

"Yeah, well you're not in a good position to do much of anything," Hugo snorted. "I mean, you're in such deep shit right now."

"Language!" said Hermione quickly.

"Really, mum?" Hugo asked, rolling his eyes.

"Really, Hugo."

"I didn't raise either of you to be like this," Hermione sighed. "Rose, I can't understand where you learned to act so violently- holding your brother hostage for no apparent reason is no way to act. As for your mouth, Hugo... yes, that's all your dad's doing."

"It's true," he shrugged.

"WHO CARES!" Rose shouted. "I WANT TO GET MARRIED, DAD! YOU WILL OWL HIM RIGHT NOW AND TELL HIM HE CAN PROPOSE TO ME! RIGHT NOW!"

"No I will not!" Ron said, drawing himself up proudly. "I don't want you to marry him."

"You don't want me to marry anyone," Rose cried, exasperated.

"But especially not a Malfoy! I told you not to get too close to him, I did. Didn't I, Hermione?"

"Mhmm," she said neutrally, all the while rolling her eyes at Rose since Ron couldn't see her.

"Dad, don't be a prat," Hugo sighed. "Scorpius is alright, really."

"HE'S MORE THAN ALRIGHT!" Rose bellowed, face even redder. "HE'S THE LOVE OF MY LIFE!"

"HOW WOULD YOU KNOW?" Ron shouted. "YOU'VE NEVER DATED ANYONE ELSE!"

"NEITHER HAVE YOU, AND YOU AND MUM ARE HAPPILY MARRIED A FEW CENTRIES LATER!"

"THAT'S NOT TRUE! I DATED LAVENDER BROWN AND YOUR MUM DATED VIKTOR KRUM!"

"As much as I can appreciate a little yelling, I would ask you both to tone it down. You're going to wake up the neighbors," Hermione said lightly, still smiling. Hugo gave her an amused grin, knowing what she was doing. She was trying to act all detached from the situation to create a calm atmosphere and possibly make Rose and Ron think she wasn't taking sides. When Ron made the right decision, it needed to be all on his own. She also knew how to solve the situation, but Rose would have to figure that one out by herself. Hermione couldn't help _that_  much.

"Oh, please," Rose laughed. "You call that dating? Both of them were pawns used in your weird jealousy games."

Ron narrowed his eyes.

"You spend way too much time with Aunt Ginny."

"Actually, I heard that one from Nana Molly," Rose said, sticking her tongue out at Ron. "Take that!"

"Don't stick your tongue out, that's rude," Hermione said, and Rose let out a frustrated groan.

"That's the general idea, mum!" she pointed out. "What do you think I'm here for, tea and crumpets?"

"Now that you mention it-"

"MUM!" Rose yelled, at the same time Ron sighed, "Hermione."

She threw her hands up into the air.

"I'm just saying. You may as well be civil- what's the point in making those around us suffer?"

"I want everyone in this entire world to suffer as long as dad is being such an idiot, actually. Why do you think I'm holding Hugo hostage?"

"Don't call your father an idiot," Hermione said sharply. "No matter how true it is, you still owe him respect."

Rose made an ugly face before turning her anger back to Ron.

"Look," she said, staring at him unwaveringly. "When you were sitting at that table in that restaurant proposing to mum-" (here, Ron dropped her gaze, and Hermione turned bright red) "-how would you have felt if you knew her dad hated you? Excited? Thrilled for the life ahead that was sure to be a waging war with your in-laws?"

"Well, no-" Ron started. Rose cut him off.

"So why are you doing that to Scorpius? Why would you do that to the man I love? Don't... don't you want me to be happy?"

She was starting to tear up, and Hermione smiled knowingly. A little further and Rose had done it. She was playing on Ron's weakness.

"Rosie, I-"

"He makes me so happy, daddy," she whimpered. "I love him so much! Don't you want me to be happy? Don't you want me to be in love? I'm not five, daddy. I'm not a little girl anymore. I w-want t-to get m-married t-t-to the man-n I l-love! P-please l-let m-m-me!"

"Nice going with the 'daddy'," Hugo whispered to Hermione. "He's a sucker for that, too."

"She's good," Hermione said in an undertone. "Really good."

Ron deflated as he reached forward to hug Rose. She let go of Hugo as she threw her arms around Ron, still sobbing theatrically. Hugo and Hermione tried to hide their laughter as they exchanged glances. Both had known that this would inevitably end with Rose in tears and Ron yielding.

"Of course I want you to be happy, Rose," he whispered, kissing the top of her head. "Of course I do. I love you so much... and if you think a Malfoy can make you happy, so be it. I guess."

"Thank you daddy!" Rose said blissfully. "Thank you so much!"

"Yeah, yeah," said Ron gruffly. "That doesn't mean I have to like The Wanker."

"You'll learn to," Hermione said as she slipped her arm around Hugo.

"When are you gonna tell him?" Hugo asked.

"How about now?" Rose asked brightly, pulling out of her father's embrace.

"What?"

She disapparated, leaving her mother, father, and brother to all stare at each other in a bewildered fashion until she suddenly reappeared, toting a pajama-clad Scorpius.

"What's going on?" he asked, taking in his surroundings. Upon spotting Ron, he swallowed hard and said, "Hello, Mr. Weasley. Hi, Mrs. Weasley."

"Hmph," Ron said.

"Hello, dear," Hermione said. "How's your mother?"

"Oh, she's-"

"Scorpius," Rose said loudly, "Dad has something to say to you."

Scorpius turned expectantly to Ron, who looked like he was in physical pain.

"Yes?"

"Young man, you can... you can... youcanaskher."

"What?" Scorpius frowned. "I didn't quite catch that."

Ron turned red with fury and Hugo and Hermione ducked their heads to hide their laughter.

"You can ask her," Ron said clearly. "You have my blessing."

"Seriously?" Scorpius asked.

"Seriously," Ron said grumpily. "Don't make me regret it."

"You have our blessing, dear," Hermione said warmly. "Welcome to the family."

"YES!" Scorpius shouted, and then he grabbed Rose and kissed her furiously.

"Uh- something you want to ask me, baby?" she asked, pulling back and smiling mischievously. Scorpius got down onto his knees right there on the porch and said,

"Rose Weasley, will you marry me?"

"Yes!" she laughed, and then he sprung up and kissed her and lifted her into the air and swung her around.

"Eck," Ron said, wrinkling his nose. "What did I just agree to, Mione?"

"Grandchildren," she smirked. "And lots of them."

Hugo rolled his eyes.

"Well, I'm off, you two," he said. "I've got my own significant other to attend to."

"Tell her I say hi," Hermione told him, kissing him on the cheek. "I'll get Rose to apologize about your ear the next time you see her."

"That's alright," Hugo shrugged. "It was for a good cause. Besides, she'll call me Squirt while she does it, and I really hate that nickname."

"Okay," Hermione laughed.

"Bye, Squirt!" Ron teased. "Have fun at work tomorrow! Give 'em hell over at  _Transfiguration Today_ , Squirt."

"Dad, it's my office! I can't just walk into  _Transfiguration Today_  and give them  _hell_!"

Ron paused, then glanced over at Hermione.

"Is it just me, or does that sentence sound sort of familiar?"

Hermione squinted, trying to think.

"It does, doesn't it?" She thought on it for a second, then shrugged. "Probably something somebody famous said."

Ron shrugged.

"Probably. Anyways, bye Hugo."

They watched as he turned on the spot and apparated home, then realized that they were left completely alone with a still snogging Rose and Scorpius. Seeing the look on Ron's face, Hermione slammed the door shut.

"I am so proud of you, my love," she said, and then she kissed him slowly, running her fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair.

"Thanks," he said. "Do you think she'll be okay?"

"Of course she'll be okay," Hermione said, smiling serenely. "Because if he doesn't treat her right you and Hugo will beat the shit out of him, and what girl wouldn't want that?"

Maybe it was because Hermione had used a cuss word, or maybe it was merely the fact that she was in his arms, but after that everything seemed okay again. Then again, he didn't know why he was surprised. She always made things okay. Better than okay, actually. When Hermione was in the equation, everything was  _perfect_.


	30. Chapter Thirty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because sometimes, to fall asleep, all you need is your best friend. Your boyfriend. Your fiancee. Your wife. Your soul mate. A collection of 30 moments in a lifetime during which Ron and Hermione just couldn't fall asleep.

**Chapter 30**   
_Epilogue_

He hadn't slept since she'd died.

Seven months, thirteen days, two hours. That was how long it had been since he slept. That was how long it had been since she'd left this earth- left him. The moment she'd been pronounced dead, the moment she'd stopped breathing... well, that was the moment he'd stopped caring about himself. He was done because she was done. Forever. That was it- the end. The end of her was the end of him. Why would you keep living when your soul was gone? What was there on this earth when the love of your life had gone where you couldn't follow? He loathed every breath he took because it meant that he was still alive, and why was he still alive? Breathing. In this house. Without her. Why hadn't he ceased to live the second she had? It wasn't fair. People like them should die together- they were meant to. They had grown up together, raised children together, lived together, suffered together. They had mourned together, the deaths of their friends and family members, both as teenagers and adults. But it wasn't until seven months ago that death had hit one of them. Seven months, thirteen days, two hours.

Ron's life had become fairly routine since his wife died. Even though he had retired about twenty years ago, he woke up at seven AM, like Hermione had always forced him to do. He made himself breakfast, cleaned up after himself immediately, then turned the dial on the radio with hands that had not stopped shaking in a very long time. They were old hands, withered and gnarled, but there was still something about them: something that indicated that those hands had been entwined with other hands and kissed and revered. That they had held rings and babies and grandchildren and someone very, very special. That those hands had been numb with cold and warm with passion. That those hands had lived- and they had. Because their owner had lived, and he had been happy.

The rest of Ron's day was fairly simple- work in the garden, listen to Quidditch, even read a book. Sometimes he went over to Harry and Ginny's, but most of the time he didn't, as being around them only served to remind him of what he had lost and what they still had. An overwhelming sense of jealousy hurt his heart whenever he was around them, so he simply stayed away, unable to bear it all. He did a pretty good job of distracting himself during the day, to be honest. He could busy himself enough that he only thought of Hermione once every two minutes instead of once a second. But the nights were impossible, because there was no Quidditch and no light for gardening and all he really wanted to do was stare at the wall and  _remember_.

 _Remember when I had you? Remember when we were in love? Remember how we spent our lives together? How come mine didn't end when yours did?_  
  
On this particular night, his thoughts were interrupted by a noisy knock on the door. It was loud enough so that he could hear it, and he was grateful. In her last year, Hermione had all but gone blind, so that Ron was forced to read her books out loud to her. Ron himself had pretty much gone deaf, and Hermione had been forced to clarify things for him constantly. It had frustrated Ron to tears, but Hermione had always been oddly calm about the whole thing. She'd told him once that she liked how it had worked out, as it only served to show her that they were meant to grow old together. Ron smiled at this thought as he reached out to open the door. Behind it were his son and daughter, Rose carrying a casserole, Hugo brandishing an old DVD.

"Hello," Ron said, looking at the two of them with a smile on his face. There were Hermione's eyes, and there was her nose, and that was the exact color of her skin. "What are you two doing here?"

"I brought food," Rose said too quickly.

"Amanda wanted me to give back your wedding tape. We borrowed it to show the kids."

"We just happened to meet here on the doorstep. We didn't plan this at all!" Rose blurted out.

"Smooth," Hugo sighed. "Real smooth, Rosie."

"Sorry," she winced.

Ron ignored their dialog, opening the door wider and gesturing them into the house. They perched on the couch next to each other, while he settled into the armchair across from them, drinking in their faces. He loved seeing them, their spouses, and their children, although sometimes he wasn't in the mood to handle it. There were good days and bad days, and that was the thing about this part of his life. Sometimes he was happy to see the little pieces of his wife in his family members, and sometimes one glance made him fall apart.

"What are you two doing here?" he asked in a falsely bright voice.

Dropping all pretenses, Rose and Hugo exchanged glances.

"We're here to check on you, daddy," Rose said softly, concern lighting her features. Hugo shifted uncomfortably next to his sister. No matter how old Rose and Hugo were, it seemed to Ron that they always reverted back to their youthful ways when they were around their parents or each other.

"I'm... fine," he said, hesitating before the word left his mouth. He didn't  _feel_ fine. Exhausted, yes. Restless, yes. Hopeless, most definitely. But not fine. Fine was average, fine meant 'faring', that you were hanging in there. He wasn't hanging in there. Hanging in there implied that you were alive, and he didn't feel alive anymore. Not without Hermione. But how could you look your kids in the eye and tell them that they were the only reason you were bothering to hang on? That they were the reason you lived in misery every day. That you were there because you didn't want to leave them behind.

"You aren't fine," Hugo said, voice rough with emotion. "You miss mum too much to be fine."

Ron felt a pang in his stomach as Hugo spoke directly about Hermione. Usually they skirted around the subject, but for some reason Hugo wasn't able to do that. Heart sinking, Ron watched as Hugo turned bright red and Rose hid her head in her hands, unwilling to let her father and brother see the emotion on her face. Unable to find a good way to reply to this, Ron simply said,

"You're right."

It came out as a croak, and Hugo winced at the vulnerability in his father's voice. Ron Weasley- war hero, acclaimed Auror- didn't  _do_  vulnerable. In front of his children, he became quite gruff when feeling strong emotions like this. Hermione had always been the one who had gotten him to open up, cry freely. She'd talked it out with him, comforted him, and he had done the same for her. But whom did he cry to over Hermione's death? Not Hermione. And without her he didn't know how to cry, not anymore, so he simply  _didn't._ He lived perpetually on the verge of a breakdown, waiting for the day when the dam broke and the tears poured from his eyes. Make no mistake, he desperately longed to cry. He just...  _couldn't._

The three of them sat in silence, Rose's back shaking up and down incessantly, but she made no noise. Ron and Hugo avoided each other's gaze and avoided looking at Rose. He could almost  _feel_ the exasperation radiating off of Hermione wherever she was, could imagine her exact words.

"For heavens' sake, you three," she'd groan. "You're a family! You love each other! Remember? Remember the bedtime stories and the vacations and the Quidditch Games and the wedding dances? You don't need me to be able to  _talk_ to each other, do you?"

Wordlessly, Ron stood up, walked over to Rose, and wrapped his arms around her trembling frame. She leaned into him as he reached across her to grip Hugo's shoulder. Like the family they were, they instantly clicked together. And it was just like when Rose and Hugo were young... except this time, Hermione wasn't there to comfort the children with him. It was ironic that the person who had held them together all those years was now ripping them apart.

"Thanks," Rose whispered shakily, pulling away. "I needed that."

"I know," Ron told her.

She smiled at him for a second, then shook her head.

"I should go. When I left the house, Jean was having some sort of emotional crisis that I left my darling husband to deal with."

"Okay," Ron said, and he stood up with her. Hugo stood too, and headed to the door as well.

"Will you be okay, Dad?" he asked.

"Of course I will," Ron replied quickly, gruff personality back in a second. "Go have lives. I love you both."

"Love you too," they chorused. Rose kissed him on the cheek, and they were gone.

Ron shut the door and turned back to his dark living room, eyes flicking to the wooden coffee table where Rose had left her casserole and Hugo had left the wedding video. Slowly, Ron walked over to it. Hands shaking slightly, he lifted the wedding video, staring at the picture on the cover- him and Hermione in their wedding finery, gazing at each other lovingly. Without thinking about it, without worrying about it, without considering any consequence it might bring on, Ron took the DVD out of its case and popped it into the Muggle player Hermione always kept in the house. Instantly, the screen sprung to life, colors and images Ron hadn't seen in years playing out before him. The first was his father, balding and old looking, but alive. Ron hadn't seen him in years, and he felt a burning in his throat as he gazed upon the face of his deceased father.

" _What do I have to say on Ron and Hermione's wedding day?"_  Arthur asked.  _"Hmmm... well, I suppose congratulations. You two made it to the altar, finally. I'd like you to know that this has been coming since about 1992. No one's really surprised, to be honest. To Ron- great job selecting such a marvelous girl to join our family. I'm proud of you son. And to Hermione... well, I've felt that you were my daughter for quite some time now, so this isn't going to be a really big change for me. But it's still going to be very nice for me to know that I'll always have such a kind, patient daughter in my life to tell me all about her Muggle world and put up with my incessant questions. You both are very, very special and... well, I can't wait until you learn more about marriage and kids because, while it's going to be very frustrating, you're going to figure out that all the little things make it worthwhile."_

The camera panned over to Molly, who was beaming at her husband, wild red hair blowing in the wind. An involuntary noise escaped from Ron's throat- his mother had also been absent from his life for a very long time, and it was almost strange to see that face and actually recognize it. Ron smiled to himself as the familiar voice began to speak lovingly.

" _I'm so happy for both of you. Don't tell anyone I said this, but out of all my children, your love story reminds me the most of mine. It is remarkable to see such a marvelous couple such as yourselves make it to the altar, dears, because we've all been rooting for you on the sidelines. All throughout your school years, Ron, I watched with bated breath- waiting for that letter from Ginny that was sure to spill the beans about a relationship that you were having with Hermione. Which is why it made me so angry when I read all those articles about her and Harry and Viktor Krum... Merlin, I can't believe I still remember that. Anyways, I'm sorry dear, you really are the perfect girl for my Ronniekins and I am so thrilled with what you've done with him so far. Thank you for always believing in him like I did, thank you for your patience, your relentless faith and encouragement, and thank you for the ways you make him better. I can't wait to see what my grandbabies look like. Oh, and I'm glad you two get a big white wedding, unlike me and your father. You deserve it so, so much after everything you've been through. Welcome to the family, Hermione."_

His mother and Hermione had always had a close friendship, possibly due to the fact that his mum had killed the woman who had tortured Hermione. Ron recalled looking across the venue and seeing his mother in a fit of tears, being patted on the back by a sobbing Mrs. Granger, the perfect cliché to complete the wedding.

The shot changed to Hermione gliding down the aisle, a bright smile lighting her face. Tiny balls of light floated above her head, the blue hue reflected on the slight train on the back of her dress, rippling behind her like a lazy river. It changed to Ron's face, devotion and love and awe in his expression before she had even reached him. If he closed his eyes, he could remember the jolt of excitement in his stomach, the emotion that closed his throat, the taste of possibility on his tongue as he kissed her for the first time as man and wife.

And then Mr. Granger's face filled the screen as he stood next to his wife, who still had tear tracks on her face as the two of them exited the venue on the way to the reception.

" _Er... well, it's been a long road, but we're finally here. Weasley, thanks for making my little girl so happy, and I hope you continue to do so. She doesn't have any brothers to pound on you if you step out of line, but that isn't to say I can't, so be good to her. And, Hermione, come home any time. Your mother and I love you very much, Princess, and we always will no matter how old you get. I know you hate being called Princess, but today's your wedding day and I've already seen you and you do look like a Princess, so I think it's well earned. Though you've always been a beautiful little Princess to me. Ever since you were a little girl and you had buckteeth and bushy hair, you were still my little Princess. And if Weasley saw that in you all those years ago... well, it means I'm alright with him marrying you. Thanks, my son."_

Ron laughed, slightly amazed at how formal this man was with him. The two of them had grown closer over time, and, while they were never as close as Hermione was with Ron's parents, they had formed and trust and camaraderie that was based off of Mr. Granger's understanding of the fact that Ron would never hurt his daughter. It was strange to think there had been a time when that had not been there- so much about that dynamic had changed.

" _Well,"_  Mrs. Granger said as the camera panned to her,  _"I honestly can't believe this is happening. Oh God, if I start crying turn the camera away. Oh, and scrap that part in editing. Well... okay... here goes. Hermione, I bought you this video because I know what age does to your mind. It eats at it, nibbling away memories and abilities slowly but surely. I know wizards and witches don't usually have these wedding videos but I always wanted you to have one. I remember how much you used to love mine and daddy's. How you'd insist we watch it for every anniversary, plopping yourself onto the couch with an adorable amount of enthusiasm that never got old no matter what age you were. You haven't seen it since you were eleven, as it's during the school year, but we were never able to break the habit of watching it. Ron, I want you and Hermione to watch this every anniversary, and I want you to make sure she watches it. Because she's going to be full speed ahead with work and children and parties and plans and you're always going to be the one that stops her, that tells her the breathe, that kisses her and makes it better. I know you can do that- I have complete faith in you. Your carefree nature is actually what my daughter needs. Please get her to let go every once in a while, no matter what. Take care of her when she needs to be taken care of. In sickness and health. For richer or poorer. For better or for worse. Because you love each other so much, and that should never and will never go to waste as long as you both shall live."_

He was smirking now, remembering how young Rose and Hugo had always laughed at Nana Granger asking the camera operator to cut that part in editing, and how it never actually got cut. The realness of the sentence was actually Ron's favorite part of her speech, now that he thought about it. It reminded him that these people and this event were not something he had dreamed up, that they were quite real and apart of his life and at one time they had breathed and talked to him and been apart of birthdays and Christmases and vacations.

There was a shot of the wedding cake, followed by the appearance of George's face on the screen. Ron let out a startled yell. No one had been very surprised when George had died before any of his brothers, so it was a bit of a shock to see his face. He had never really functioned normally again without Fred, and even Angelina had been able to take console in the fact that they were together again. Sometimes, when she couldn't find her keys or when something went wrong in a funny way, she'd swear that the two of them were playing tricks on her.

" _Well ickle Ronnie... not much I can say, really. Thanks for throwing a good party- bands great, even though it's Muggle. Lots of dancing to be done. Yeah. Er- so, you're married. That's cool. I always knew it was you and Hermione, of course. God, you couldn't have been more obvious. Arguing endlessly, driving Harry to suicide, making everyone beg me to develop an opposite of the extendable ear so that they could get their eardrums back to themselves. You drove everyone in Gryffindor crazy, to be honest, and many of the older students hated your guts because you were simply too stupid to figure it out. We placed bets on you, you know. Me and... Fred. Fred. He would have been so proud of you. He was actually the one who guessed the correct year and had the closest guess to the correct scenario. He never found out that he won. But he did. In the end, he had the last laugh. And thank you for giving it to him."_

The screen became filled with images of Ron and Hermione during their Hogwarts years, pictures that Mrs. Granger had supplied for the video. Ron began laughing at buck-toothed Hermione's smile filling the screen. If only he had known how they would grow old together back then- seven years would not have been wasted on taking the time to figure himself out, experiment with other girls. He should have known that finding her meant finding himself all along.

A voice began to speak over the pictures, and Ron recognized it to be Charlie's. As the pictures faded out and the shot turned to his brother, Ron noticed that Charlie looked rather uncomfortable in his Muggle suit and tie, something that had nothing to do with the fact that his clothes were Muggle. For some reason, Charlie had always looked his best muddy, dirty, and in danger, having the time of his life. Ron could distinctly remember his mum whining about this on many a time.

" _What do I have to say to Ron and Hermione? Er... I was in Romania for most of their dating life, to be honest. But, like everyone else in our family, I have known Hermione since she was fourteen. I met her at the Quidditch World Cup. She was really something, even then. Was voracious for knowledge, had to know the answer to all these questions about dragons. At first I was reserved- after all, I usually drive people crazy with my constant chatter on dragons. Hermione, however, kept asking questions. Her attention was unwavering, and she consumed every bit of knowledge I threw at her. Matter of fact, the only time her attention went from me to someone else was when she would look over my shoulder at you, Ron. The look on her face was fascinating- endearing, loving, adoring. She fancied you so much even back then- maybe she even loved you. Not exactly in the same way she does now, but she still loved you. So don't take that for granted, Ron. That kind of love is hard to find- hell, I still haven't found it. I'm holding out until I find someone that looks at me the way Hermione looks at you. Someone that I can look at the way you look at Hermione. And if I never find that I'll never marry, because yours is the kind of love that's worth giving up being a bachelor for and giving up your freedom for and getting tied down for. It's worth just about anything."_

A second later, the shot turned to Bill, standing next to Fleur and his daughters, all of whom looked excited to be on camera. Ron let out a snort at how young they looked- Victoire had long ago gotten married and had kids with Teddy Lupin. They'd grown up together, and no matter how many times they'd broken up and made up, they had never been able to get over each other. Their marriage had been a last ditch attempt to keep them together no matter what happened, suggested by Hermione as a joke one day. She'd been sick of all the drama and had been talking about it sarcastically to Fleur, who had thought she was serious and immediately brought the idea to Victoire. Ron could still remember the shocked look on Teddy's face as he was proposed to by a girl that wasn't even his girlfriend at that point. But he'd said yes, because he'd know that they'd end up together no matter what. Hermione had been a bit shocked, but in the end wondered how they hadn't seen it coming, on account of the fact that Victoire was a Weasley/Delacour, and letting some guy propose to  _her_  with that combination just didn't seem plausible.

" _Ron, Hermione... the fact that the two of you get to actually have a wedding day is absolutely a miracle to me. I mean, the second I saw you dragging Hermione's limp body on the beach, I thought she was dead. I thought I was going to have to spend years repairing the little brother that I had lost. And then it sort of occurred to me that weren't so little, are you? No, you'd grown up the second you'd realized that you never should have Apparated away from your two best friends. Ron, you did an amazing job getting back to them. Amazing. I'm so proud of you- the things you've done by far surpass anything anyone in our family has done. Which is why you got Hermione. Why she made it through- besides the fact that she is a fighter. Seriously, a huge fighter. What you two have... it's worth more than all the gold in Gringotts. I've seen treasure, a lot of it. But you have something better than that. And after all you've been through, you deserve to be happy, and you deserve to be happy together. So enjoy it. You only get one life."_

Fleur's speech was next, and this was the one that started Hermione in on the tissues. Hers and Bills were also the ones that Ron and Hermione had to find strategic ways to mute or distract the children from, considering the fact that they talked about Hermione's torture and the war, and Hermione and Ron had kept these things from Rose and Hugo for several years.

" _When I met the two of you, I didn't really know who you were. Yes, I was aware of Harry, but I never really cared about his two best friends. And then I got engaged to Bill, and everything changed. I was a complete outsider. That said, I was able to look in on the situation from a completely un-biased point of view. And even then I could tell that the man 'Ermione wanted was not the one everyone expected her to have. Back in you fourth year, I thought she was going to go for Harry, the obvious choice. But at the dinner table in the Burrow, it became apparent that she fell for Ron instead, Harry's best friend, the one you were always fighting with. I could see it from across a room, in a single instant. The way you looked at him said it all. Sometimes, at dinner, I would be bored because no one would talk to me. Bill was working late, everyone else was deep in conversation. And, 'Ermione and Ron, I watched you two. The way you interacted. That was how I knew my marriage was right. Bill and I were just like you. We could talk for hours and make each other laugh and smile and everyone thought the odds were against us but no one considered the fact that we were perfect. Now, all Veela have this instinct that tells them when two people are meant to be. In those moments, I understood the fact that you two were soul mates. Just knew, simple as that, because it was in my blood. Which was why it was so strange to see 'Ermione's lifeless body being raced across that beach by the man she loved... and who had by then realized he loved her back. I was so scared you two wouldn't be able to have a chance. I 'urried to 'eal 'Ermione, 'urried to get her back to normal, 'ad to make sure that your love story had a 'appy ending. Because if you two were to fail, I didn't see how any love could make it. I almost lost my faith in the world that night because of you two. Because there was nothing as innocent and sweet and wonderful as the way you looked at each other. And now, years later, when I'm loosing my faith in the world, I still look at you two. I see the look in your eyes, on your faces. And I remember. So thank you, Hermione and Ron. For accepting me. For enlightening me. For everything you're going to do to bring a little more love into this world, just as Dumbledore would have wanted."_

The stiff figure of Viktor Krum suddenly appeared on the screen, startling Ron as the thick, black eyebrows took up most of his television.

" _Er... I'm not sure if I should be on this... you're filming? Oh, vell, er... I guess... I'm sorry, Ron. I didn't mean to steal your girlfriend from you. In my defense, she said yes. But even then I knew something was vrong. She was never_ vith  _me. Do you know vat I mean? She'd be there, but she vasn't_ there _. She vasn't alive like she vas ven she vas vith you, Veasley. You made her different, you made her laugh, you did things to her that I could not. I suppose I vas slightly ashamed of myself. She vas my first failed conquest since I had become a Quidditch player, and she vas really something special. No matter vat I did, I could not get her to act around me the vay she did around you. Sure, she vas polite. But vith you she vas always so playful, happy, loose. You vere able to make her stress-free vithout even trying, a feat that few have ever been able to accomplish. It vasn't my fault I vasn't enough for her, either. She just... she alvays vanted you. She vas yours from the very start, and it never changed. Ve have kept up correspondence over the years, and in each of her letters I can tell how happy you make her. So, Veasley, treat her vell. Treat her like a Queen, treat her like a female, treat her like your vife and treat her like your best friend. As for you, Herm-own-ninny... vell, you alvays did deserve someone who could pronounce your name properly, as much as I am loathe to admit it. So just know that if you ever need someone to kick Veasley's arse, I vould be more than happy to do it."_

For the record, Viktor had never had to kick Ron's arse. But it had been funny the first time they watched the video and realized how closely Mr. Granger and Viktor Krum's speeches correlated. Hermione always took this as an opportunity to smugly remind Ron of how she had been right all along, and that Viktor was closer to a father figure to her than anyone else. Ron couldn't help but smile at this memory, and he almost subconsciously reached for a pillow, wrapping his arms around it as though holding it would be like holding Hermione. It wasn't soft like her, it didn't smell like her, but it was something. Something to hold on to. His knuckles turned white as Percy's face came onto the screen, and Ron chuckled, already anticipating what was coming in spite of his conflicting feelings over whether this video should make him feel happy or sad.

" _Ron, Hermione- congratulations. You know, on paper your relationship doesn't seem like it would work, so I must admit it was rather skeptical when the two of you turned up holding hands a few days after the final battle. But years later you two have proven that you don't just work, you_ work _. You're as close to perfect as one can get, and believe me- I used to try. For a couple that I would have bet against, you two have worked out remarkably well. I guess I was never there when you two were younger, because_ no one _is surprised. And I mean no one. At all. They all saw it coming, while I was left on the ground spitting dust out of my mouth at the speed it seemed you two were going. Everyone said you took forever. I thought you went too fast. Everyone tiptoed around you two, waiting for one of their or your own footsteps to set off a bomb. I thought the bomb would go off regardless. But it never did. Somewhere along the way, I stopped expecting it to. Because I started seeing that you weren't perfect, but maybe that was why you were perfect. Does that make sense? I'm not sure if it does. But thanks, you two. Because you help me see that things with flaws are even better than perfect. They're real. You're real. You're not some fairytale that every little girl sighs over. Hermione, thanks for choosing my brother. And Ron... I'm so glad you chose a girl to marry who can match me intellectually. Nice one."_

Yes, that had been Percy's favorite part about Hermione. Not the fact that she made Ron a better person. Not the fact that she loved Ron more than anything in the world. Not the fact that she was the second bravest person Percy had ever had the privilege to know (after Harry). No, it was her intellect, her smarts. The fact that she had worked alongside Percy at the ministry made her worthy of Percy's brother. How bloody ridiculous. But, then, that was Percy. Anger flooded Ron's stomach for a few seconds until he saw the next face on the screen, and he began to laugh at the face that was still present in his life. Thank god for giant blood.

" _Wha can I say? Well, I suppose... maybe I told you so. I remember the first time I saw it, I do. You were both just twelve years old and Malfoy had gone and insulted Hermione. Ron, you roared to her defense, casting a spell to save her, and it backfired on ya. But I don't think Hermione ever forgot it, did you? How he rushed to your defense. It was at that moment that all the bickering started to make sense to me and I saw what you two were. Now, mind, I'm not exactly a romantic. Nah, I'm not very good with that stuff. But there was something about you two that made it so obvious it was painful. I remember the staff making bets on you... Merlin, that was funny. I joined in, because I knew. I had watched. And watched. And watched. The fights, the gazes, the frustration. It got even worse every year and it just made me laugh because bloody hell were you two stupid. Drove Harry up the wall, you did! Why couldn't you tell, huh? Hermione, you are the cleverest witch of your age! How come you couldn't tell that he wanted you as badly as you wanted him? Wasn't there some way you could have read him like a book? Ar, I suppose if there had been you would have found it. And Ron, you are the most Gryffindorish of all Gryffindors. Why didn't you just walk up to her and say it? Well, don't matter much now, I suppose. You did it, you two! You're married! A-aragog w-would h-have b-been s-s-so h-hap-ppy!"_

There the screen cut over to McGonagall, although Hagrid's elbow could still be seen in the shot, shaking up and down. She had to yell over his sobs, which took up most of the sounds on the speakers. Ron could picture Rose and Hugo collapsing in fits of giggles as they watched this moment on the video, rolling around on the couch in their footie pajamas.

" _Well, I'm glad you two finally got your act together. Years of seeing the progression of your relationship in my class was enough for me to want you two to get over yourselves and snog each other senseless... if only so you would stop bickering so much. And, by the way, I did partake in those bets Hagrid was talking about. Not only did I partake in them, I won them. Beat Sybil by a landslide. If it weren't for the fact that I never speak ill of my colleagues..."_

But at this point she'd conveniently had to stop, as Hagrid had become too loud to hear over and she simply couldn't compete with him anymore. As she reminded him to pull out his hanky, the shot changed to another face, one that still managed to make Ron roll his eyes in annoyance. Auntie Murial.

At least she had croaked a bit after the wedding. Still, it would have been nice if the cameraman had decided not to put her in Ron's wedding video.

" _He's marrying a muggleborn. What should I have to say to that besides "bad posture and skinny ankles?" Well, she's got them. No, I don't have anything nice to say! I am a hundred and... well, some number, and I ought not to be on camera for too long. Isn't it going to damage my eyesight? It's already bad enough, sonnyboy! Why do you keep asking me to talk to the bride and groom? Can they hear me? No! They're over there snogging in that corner- quite rude if you ask me. I think he made a big mistake marrying her. Who would be stupid enough to turn down wearing a goblin made tiara to their wedding? She works in what department? Dear me, this just gets worse... you there, give me your chair!"_

His annoyance subsided as a friendly face appeared. Neville, smiling blissfully as the quiet Hannah Abbott rested her head on his shoulder. Even before they were married, you could tell how in love they were.

" _Ron and Hermione... I do believe I was the last person who saw this coming. I'm not kidding. I mean, you two? You always fought! Every single second of the day! I'd walk into the Common Room in the evening and the first thing I heard was Hermione's high-pitched voice squealing over the sound of Ron's deeper one. After a while, it almost became like a melody, one that all of us Gryffindors did our homework to. At first I had trouble concentrating when you were fighting. Then I had difficulties without that familiar song. When you two weren't fighting, school felt weird. It wasn't Hogwarts until Ron and Hermione had their beginning of the year blow-out. But then, one day in fourth year, I was walking down to the Great Hall and I heard a bunch of girls giggling about Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger's impending romance. Seriously, that was how obvious it was. Except to me, and I was idiot enough to ask Hermione to the Yule Ball before hearing that. Once I had, however, it made me feel a bit better because I knew you hadn't rejected me for me. You'd rejected me for Ron! Who wasn't actually smart enough to ask you out anyway. Ron, you were such a bloody idiot back then. Still are, actually. I mean, the look on your face when I said I wanted to leave the Auror program to become a Herbology teacher the other day... priceless, mate. Anyways, during the weeks preceding the Yule Ball, I watched the two of you closely. And you seemed like the same old Hermione and Ron to me. But then there was the fight and the crying on the staircase and everything Ron could have done wrong he did... so I knew. I knew he liked you, Hermione, and Ron, I knew she liked you back. Then it was just a waiting game, one that I think we had to wait for far too long. But you actually did it in the end. You just got married! Maybe Ron isn't as stupid as I continue to think he is to this day... he's smart enough to marry you, Hermione. Well, it's my fault, I suppose. I still think of you two as the fifteen year olds that fought during the Yule Ball. Thanks for proving me wrong- I'll work on it."_

Another face that was still a regular in Ron's life came onto the screen, and it was one that always made his lips quirk no matter what situation he was in. As soon as Luna Lovegood Scamander opened her mouth to speak, pure gold came out.

" _Ron and Hermione? Oooh, I have a lot of things to say about Ron and Hermione on their wedding day, thank you for asking me."_  Pause.  _"Oh, right, yes. Well... Ron and Hermione. You're getting married! Which you probably know due to the fact that I just said 'I have a lot of things to say about Ron and Hermione on their wedding day', but in case the wrackspurts got to you and you didn't pick that up... yay, marriage! Now, to the good stuff. I do believe that it was I that first decided that these two would get together. Yes, I must have been the first one to ever figure it out. They were very discreet, you see, but my studies of the magical properties of cupids told me all I needed to know about those two. It was around their fifth year, and I remember one day just suddenly being able to connect everything I read in my book to those two. Cupids infected them very early, but unfortunately there were no vampires around to suck the venom out, so that's why Hermione and Ron are getting married today. Love was an infection they simply couldn't be cured of, and it looked like a lovely disease, to be honest. I don't know why those vampires try to suck the venom of cupid's arrows out... I got hit once. That was when I met Rolf. Do you know how I realized it? I saw the way we acted around each other and realized that it was exactly the way you two did. So then, instead of freaking out because I was infected and hunting down a vampire to cure me, I sat back and relaxed and let it happen. Because... oh my goodness, you two fight like no other. But overall, you're really quite happy together. And that's just how I want my life to be."_

To this day, it amazed him how Luna could see magic where no one else could. She may have been wrong, and she may have looked a bit silly, but the fact that she was extraordinarily happy while being wrong and silly was what was so magical about Luna herself.

Ron let out a bark of a laugh as young Ginny's face showed up on the screen. Ginny... before being a mum. Before being married. Before getting old. This was Ron's little sister still in her 'little sister' days, and it never failed to make him melancholy, if he hadn't been that way already.

" _Look, guys. As soon as Mrs. Granger told me about this, I started thinking. What do you say? It has to be perfect. You might be a hundred and fifteen years old and watching this video and if I don't say exactly the perfect thing you'll hate me forever. No, just kidding, I'm sure that will never happen. I hope so, at least. But after a ton of contemplation, I've realized that there's pretty much no possible way to express my love for you two and the euphoria I feel over the fact that you're getting married. You two- and Harry- are my best friends, and you have done so much for me. You talked to me whenever I had problems, you stood up for me against bullies, you stood by me through the terror that was the Tom Riddle incident, you brought Harry home to me safely after that blasted Horcrux Hunt. I am so grateful to you for that, and I will never stop owing you. But, Hermione, I hope I can start by being the best sister-in-law of all the ones you will ever have. You're already like a sister to me, and I'm so glad we're able to make that official. You have just gotten what you have always wanted- I honestly wish I could reach back into my dorm during sixth year and tell you what happens, stop you from crying, tell you that you didn't need to avoid your dorm because pretty soon Lavender would get hers and you'd have yours. As for you, Ron, you may have been a grouchy little boy sometimes, but you were always there for me when I needed you, and your heart was always in the right place. I love you both so much, and I can't wait to experience more life with you guys, because you're sure to fill it with fun and hilarity and Ron and Hermioneish stuff that I'll never get sick of, now matter how much I pretend to hate it."_

In the years to come, Ginny would be known to fervently deny these words. But Ron didn't have time to dwell on his crazy sister, as his favorite interview had suddenly shown up on the screen, and he turned up the volume to make sure that he didn't miss a second.

" _Er- right. Yeah, I remember you warning me that someone would ask me this, Ron. Thanks for the heads up, mate. Wish I had actually heeded it, because now I have no idea what to say. Ginny told me she didn't know what to say either, but when she said that she was grinning like a fool so I think hers must have gone well. Blimey, what do you say to fourteen years of solid friendship? Thanks, I guess. You're probably the reason I'm here, able to dance at your wedding. Er- scratch that. I've been trying to avoid dancing as much as I can. Can't deny Gin, of course, but I just don't think that's the right way to phrase that, seeing as- if I had it my way- we would be playing Quidditch right now. Actually, I think that's Ron's way, too. Shit, maybe I shouldn't have said that. Shit, I really shouldn't have just sworn on your wedding video! Sorry, sorry, sorry! Anyways... guys, I can't even tell you how happy I am that you are... married? You're... married. Married. My two best friends are married... to each other! Holy shit, that just hit me. SORRY! I just, whoa. Ron got married. Hermione got married to Ron. That is so weird. I mean... are we old enough to get married? Should I ask Ginny? No, okay, one thing at a time- I need to adjust to this first. I mean, wasn't it just yesterday that Hermione had buckteeth and Ron wasn't six feet yet and we were saving her from the troll? Wasn't it just a few years ago that the two of you decided to bloody kiss for the first time? What the hell, you two? Why are you moving so fast? No, this isn't fast, is it? It's been a while, actually. You've been heading towards this since fourth year, I guess. That was when I first saw it. Oh, you two drove me crazy that year. The bickering never stopped because you were falling for each other and you hated that and you had so much pent up anger over it. But I never thought about marriage. And when you were fighting in sixth year and Ron went and snogged Lavender Brown and Hermione was so heartbroken... I wasn't preparing myself for marriage then, either. And what about during the Horcrux Hunt, when the two of you saved my life over and over again? Do you think I was thinking about marriage then? NO! So how were you? How could you do this so fast? It's been... what, seven years since the battle. Seven years? God, where have I been? I'm still a bit shocked when I see you two snogging or holding hands or being openly affectionate. And now you're bloody husband and wife. When did Ron even grow up enough to ask Hermione to get married? Ron, weren't you afraid of confrontation only a few years ago? How did you let this happen to yourself?"_ He paused, face red with how worked up he had gotten himself. Then he sighed.  _"Sorry, I don't mean to sound like I don't want you two married. I do. It's just... I never thought we would all have a future. But now that we do... well, I'm glad you guys are utilizing it. Keep up the good work. Guess I'll have to have a kid before you, in retaliation. Blimey, a baby. Are you two going to have a baby? Am I going to be godfather? What's going to-? You know what, never mind. I'll leave_ that  _decision up to you. Happy wedding day, you guys. Love you both."_

And then came the interview he was dreading: his own. Ron sighed as younger-him came onto the screen, and he resisted the urge to hide his face in a pillow. His ugly, old, wrinkly face. Hermione had sworn that he was still beautiful no matter how old they got, but Ron had peevishly complained that she was biased. Amazingly, when he told her she was still gorgeous, she'd always use the same thing on him, and when he'd promised her that he wasn't she had called him a hypocrite, something that Ron had chosen to become deaf to.

" _What do I have to say to my wife on my wedding day? Didn't I already do this? Should I reread my vows? Oh, you got those on tape, did you? Right, then. So I'm supposed to talk to Hermione. Er... I love you? Yeah, good place to start. I love you, and I know that no matter how much older we are, whenever we watch this video I will still be in love with you. It's that easy, that simple, because... well... we're sort of a forever kind of thing. Aren't we? Yes, we are. That's why we got married. That's why there's this silver band weighing down my finger. It's... different. Not a bad different. I kind of like it, actually. I feel like it makes me... yours. And you're mine. And we've been like that since we were eighteen, but this is so official. This is more binding than anything we've ever done... snogging and saying 'I love you' and buying a house together. This may only be a symbol but_ God _does this mean something. Something just feels different, like it did when we first got together. I'd look across the room and see you laughing and I'd go 'that laugh is mine'. I'd walk into the bedroom and see you brushing your hair and I'd go 'that hair is mine'. Or I'd hear someone mention your name and I'd think 'that girl is mine'. Now everyone knows... it's nice. As you have probably figured out... well, I'm sort of a jealous person. So the fact that men are going to look at your finger and see my ring on it is completely satisfying to me. You are mine, and I am yours, and that's that. Forever. I love you, Hermione, and believe me when I say that I know how lucky I am. You see a part of me that no one else does. You make me so much better than I could ever be without you. I love you so much."_

It was so sudden his breath caught, but there she was. Radiant. Breathtaking. Euphoric. Because they'd done it, they'd gotten married, and he could see from the pretty flush on her face that she had never been happier.

" _Ron... I've been tossing and turning for months trying to figure out what to say to you here. This video is going to be eternal... our children are going to see it, however many we have. Our grandchildren might even see it. Mum says she wants us to watch it every anniversary. I kind of agree... that would be fun, wouldn't it? Looking back on this day, laughing about how young we seem. Of course, we don't seem young now. But when I think about it, we may as well be on the train to Hogwarts again. We still have so much time with each other, so much to do together. I'm sure we'll do it all. I think we're going to complete The Plan. I sort of feel like we can do anything together... within reason. But between you and me, if we want something, we'll go after it. We'll do anything. I'd do anything for you and I know you'd do anything for me. That's a pretty damn good basis for a marriage, in my humble opinion. Earlier today... it already seems like some sort of distant memory. A fairytale. Because after all the stressing and nerves and panic over this wedding, I'm honestly more excited for what's going to come with the two of us. I want to do everything with you, and I can't wait to see what the future holds for us._ Semper fidelis _, Ron. Always faithful. I've been yours since the day I met you, and I will be forever. Regardless of pain, hardships, and catastrophes. Yours, yours, yours, and-"_

But then suddenly, as always, he appeared on the screen, sneaked up behind her, and whirled her around so that he could kiss her.

" _Ron!"_  Hermione squeaked, and he grinned at the camera.

" _I've been doing that all night,"_  Ron admitted.

" _He has,"_  Hermione confirmed.

" _She loves it,"_ Ron said in a stage-whisper, and at his side Hermione laughed.

" _I do,"_  she confirmed.

" _So, wife,"_  Ron said, turning to Hermione then and ignoring the camera,  _"you haven't danced with me all night."  
_  
 _"I beg to differ, husband,"_ Hermione said, raising an eyebrow.  _"I do believe I danced that first dance with you. I distinctly remember some rubbish about 'presenting for the first time ever Mr. and Mrs. Ronald and Hermione Weasley.'"_

" _Oh, that's right,"_  Ron said, breathing in deeply _. "I sort of just wanted to hear you say it."_

 _"Mr. and Mrs. Ronald and Hermione Weasley,"_  Hermione murmured in his ear,  _just_  loud enough for the camera to pick up. Ron breathed in again, then he glanced at the camera.

 _"If you'll excuse us,"_  he said, and then he grabbed Hermione's hand in his and led her exuberantly to the dance floor, clutching on as if she was the only solid thing in the world. But then, Ron thought, maybe she was. Because as they danced together, kissing and smiling and laughing and having everything that he could not, he couldn't help but think that all the solidness had gone out of his life when she'd left it.

And then he knew that he could cry, because he had her to cry to, so he turned the video back to her smiling face and paused it and would not let his eyes leave it. Everything poured to the front of him as he began to sob, letting the tears drip down his nose as the agony ripped through his body. He was crying for her, crying to her, crying about her. The pain felt so good to feel, the tears felt wonderful to experience.

Because Merlin, he missed her.

Movements unsteady, Ron stood up and walked over to his dark bedroom. He slid between the covers and wrapped them around his body, trying to get rid of the terrible cold that assaulted him. He hadn't slept in seven months, true, but he could still lie there and think. Which he did. And as he lay there, he lifted his hand to his face and pulled off the silver ring that still lay there. He squinted in the darkness, trying to see the inside.

_Semper fidelis._

That was the last thing he saw before everything went black. And then he was in King's Cross station, but there were no trains, and there was a figure in the distance that was running towards him very, very quickly. He squinted as the shape came closer, and his eyes widened when he realized who it was. Hermione. Not old Hermione, but not young Hermione, either. He couldn't actually pinpoint the age she was, as a matter of fact. Somehow, inexplicably, she could have been twenty and she could have been forty. She was just Hermione... glowing, beautiful, angelic.

 _Angelic_.

"RON!" she called, and in a second she had catapulted herself into his arms with an amount of strength that she hadn't exhibited in years. "Ron, Ron,  _Ron_!" she chanted in his ear. "You're here!"

"I'm... where?" Ron asked, looking around.

Hermione pulled back, guilt crossing over her face. She bit her lip.

"Er- I probably shouldn't be happy about this," she admitted.

"Where am I, Hermione?" Ron demanded, alarm filling him because he thought he knew. "Why are you here?"

"I'm here to... fetch you."

"Fetch me?" Ron said blankly.

"Oh, Ron,  _think_ ," Hermione sighed, endearingly exasperated. "You look different. You feel healthier. Your hair's red again and your hairline's further up than it has been in forty years."

"I'm dead," Ron registered blankly.

"You're dead," Hermione confirmed, smiling. "And this is where the fun begins."

Ron cocked an eyebrow at her.

"Really? You're happy about this?"

Hermione frowned.

"You're not?"

Ron paused, then rolled his eyes.

"Touche," he chuckled. Then he frowned. "How did I-?"

"In your sleep. It was just a minor heart attack, but your body's been so vulnerable lately that it sort of... did you in. I think, after tonight, you sort of stopped fighting."

"Why tonight?" Ron wondered aloud.

Hermione looked at him closely, trying to read him like he was a book as she so often did.

"Don't you think it had something to do with Rose and Hugo?"

"How so?" Ron asked conversationally.

"You were hanging on for them, right?" Hermione mused. "So when they came over, I think a part of you subconsciously realized that they'd be okay without you, because they have their spouses and their children and each other. And you knew that the person who really needed you was actually... me."

"You're probably right," Ron confessed, the fact that she knew about Rose and Hugo coming over not quite registering with him yet. This was all quite surreal. "So... is this heaven?"

"Not exactly," Hermione told him, glancing around. "This is limbo. The place between life and death. This is where you decide whether or not you want to go back as a ghost. It's sort of a crossroads. I'm here to guide you to where you need to go."

"Why does limbo look like King's Cross Station?" Ron inquired, and he was surprised when Hermione laughed.

"Limbo looks like whatever you imagine it to be, whatever will calm you down because... well, you've just discovered that you're dead. Your mum's was the Burrow's kitchen, for example. My mum's was a library. George's was Weasleys' Wizard's Wheezes."

"What was yours?"

Hermione smiled.

"Mine was also King's Cross Station. Remember how Harry told us all about this? Well, we internalized it, and somewhere along the way our vision of life after death became King's Cross Station. It's actually quite a fitting place to go, I think."

For a second Ron stared at her, and then he grabbed her and crushed his mouth to hers and kissed her with everything he was. She pulled back with a red face and twinkling eyes, then let her body sag against him in surrender to the emotions she was feeling.

"Have I told you that I missed you yet?" she breathed in his ear.

"I don't believe you have," Ron replied.

"I  _missed_  you," Hermione murmured.

"I missed you too," he admitted. "More than you can ever know."

"I do know, actually," Hermione said, taking his hand and leading him forward.

"How?" Ron asked, surprised. And when all she did was smile at him and let go of his hand, he asked again. "How?"

She smirked, mischievous, then took off running.

"RACE YOU!"

Ron chased after her, running towards the brilliant white light. Running towards an easily forgotten end and a brand new beginning. Running towards Hermione. Running towards forever. Running towards a place where he would never be sleepless again.


End file.
